My Own Vigilante
by camelcircuit
Summary: When All Might tells Izuku that he can't be a hero, he is sent onto the path of becoming a vigilante facing discrimination and depression. Luckily, he'll have Eraserhead for support.
1. Chapter 1

"I'm sorry, Izuku. I'm sorry!"

Mom awkwardly crouched in front of me, trying to hold me as I cried in the office chair. My eyes couldn't help but overfill, tears spilling down my face in a volume that I worried might drown me.

Up until this point, I had been consumed in shock, waddling through the world with blurred eyes.

For my entire life, All Might had been a beacon in the dark, slowly guiding me toward my destiny as a hero. But when I heard the doctor say-

I don't remember much once those words passed through my ears. Everything suddenly became coated in a grimy film that made me afraid of the floor collapsing underneath me. The world flaked away beneath my eyes, creating a black hole under my toes. I had one thought, and one thought only.

All Might would save me.

He would swoop into the doctor's office, and his cape would blow in the speed it took him to get there. He would stand before me, he would hold out his hand, and he would take me far away from my quirklessness.

All Might would save me, I knew he would

But he didn't. He couldn't, not really. Not from the rare chance that I had been born with two toe joints.

And so, I sat in front of the computer, and like all the times before, I played All Might's debut. Never before had All Might failed to bring a smile to my face and a warmth to my heart. No matter the hundreds of times I had seen this video, I would jump in my seat, begging for more, asking mom if I could be All Might.

But today, I sat down. I turned on my video. And when I saw All Might, I didn't see hope. I didn't feel peace.

I blinked quickly in case there was a problem with the screen, but tears started to roll down my face making my vision blur instead.

It wasn't the screen that had a problem.

It was me. I had the problem. I was the problem.

And all I wanted was for All Might to save me from myself.

Parents weren't supposed to cry. They were not supposed to weep for their broken, helpless child. Mom was not meant to collapse on me in a fit of tears and beg for unnecessary forgiveness that I could not give, in a situation I could not control.

And when mom said those words to me, she couldn't understand that those were not the words that I needed to hear.

When someone is sad, you tell them that you're sorry.

When your quirkless child asks you if they can be a hero-

You say sorry.

And then you sob with all of your heart for all that they had lost, hope that it helps, and unknowingly destroy all trust that could have ever been.

That's not what I needed to hear, mom.

All I wanted was for you to say was that even without fingers that extend, or a zero-gravity quick, I could reach for the sky. And maybe one day I would get there.

I flinch away from him, scuttling against the wall in an ungraceful heap.

"Forget the crappy quirks!" Kachan shouts at me. He presses his hand into my shoulder in an uncomfortable and tight grip, sweat staining my shirt. "You're totally quirkless!"

I press against the wall, hoping it will swallow me whole. I squeeze my eyes shut, imagining myself far away. I snap my eyes open, and give silent sorrow that I'm still here. "Wa… Wait, Kachan! Th- There's no harm in trying. It's just - it's always been my dream to be a hero, and I-I thought that I might as well try."

"Ha," he scoffs, his hand is growing increasingly warm against my shoulder. There's a popping sound, whether from his hands or my shoulder I don't know. "How long is it gonna take to get it through your shitty head?! I didn't know someone could be stupid and quirkless! Just my luck that I get saddled with stupid, shitty Deku." He grabs the scruff of my uniform and pulls my face against his.

"You'll never be a hero."

"Do- Do you think someone q-quirkless like me can be a hero?"

I flinch when I hear the word quirkless pour out of my mouth like a stuttering brook.

Just one more person. What does one more person matter? I don't care what anyone says, I'll keep my head up and keep moving forward!

All Might's gaze becomes drowsy and unfocused as he looks through me. It takes a few moments for him to collect himself, but in those few seconds, I can feel hope building inside my stomach to ridiculous heights.

No one before had given a second thought to my question- my dreams. I've never been anything more than a useless Deku. And there's a chance that that's all anyone will ever believe me to be. But I still hold hope that I could be more.

Why would I be born with this unending passion if there wasn't something I could do about it? The world can be cruel, but some days I can build up enough courage to hope that it's not pointless.

Maybe All Might would believe in me. Maybe he would save me just like I always believed he would.

Maybe I could be a hero- "No, my boy" he says, "I don't think someone quirkless can become a hero." His eyes meet mine in a determined and merciless stare, reinforcing his words as if forcing me to believe his words.

He goes onto defend his argument. Except it's not an argument, it's an adult telling a child that they know best.

I tune him out the best that I can so that I don't start sobbing in front of my number one hero.

It's just one more person, who said one more thing. I'll handle this with a smile, just like-

All Might

"-Why don't you become a police officer?" he suggests.

Why am I so set on being a hero? It's brought me nothing but heartbreak. Nothing but ridicule.

Is it supposed to hurt this much?

As if there's a beast in my stomach, consuming from the inside out.

"-heroes must also fight time!" He states before turning around and briskly walking away from me. He hesitates for less than a moment and a ways away he faces me once more. He reiterates in a soft voice, his brow pulling even lower, "Without power, one cannot be a hero, my boy."

Before he can turn away, I catch a small kink in his face that looks significantly like sorrow.

I turn my back towards All Might's shadow. I'm tired of seeing how tiny mine is compared to it.

My face pinches to keep from crying, but within in a second my face relaxes causing my stomach to convulse with sobs.

Mom, Kachan, All Might. Everybody is telling me that I'm useless.

And it's only my useless ears that wouldn't listen. My stubborn mind that wouldn't comprehend.

Maybe they're right.

I can't be a hero.

I think of All Might standing before me, pleading his case to deaf ears. It renews my tears again as it repeats in my head over and over again.

It was stupid of me to ask.

It was stupid of me to even hope.

I can't be a hero.

All Might won't save me.

Not from this.

I just... my knees bring me to the ground as my body is wracked with sobs. Tears spill down my cheeks and snot dots my face.

I just... want to help people... I want to save them even if I die trying. I want them to feel safe when they see my smile. That's all I've ever wanted.

I don't need a quirk, I just need the power to save people.

"Without power, one cannot be a hero..."

I can't help but agree with All Might on that point. But I can't help but think that a quirk does not equate power.

To be quirkless does not mean to be helpless.

It's something that everyone forgets, even myself.

How is anyone supposed to believe in me if I don't even take a chance on myself?

I can't be a hero, not the way I am.

Well after midnight, I open my window as quietly as possible, just for it to get caught in the middle.

I push against it, anchoring my feet against the ground, using my body weight. But it still won't budge!

The universe must really hate this idea.

I leave the window where it is. I place my arms through the mediocre hole, forcing my head and shoulders through. Once I get to the stomach, my body involuntarily folds in on itself and the sill plows into my soft side.

"Ow ow ow, that's gonna bruise." I leverage my arms from outside the window to finish pushing myself out the window, and promptly land on my face.

At the last moment, I had turned my body so that my shoulder took the brute of the force, but... now my feet are caught in the window. My red clunky sneakers waving around like a flag in the night.

With a little fidgeting they come free, popping outside the sill, and plopping onto the ground.

This... is not a good omen I can't help but think.

"Ow," I mutter, rubbing my abdomen. "Shit, that hurt. Next time I should try feet first so that I can sit in the windowsill without bruising my stomach. Before school, I'll grab something to loosen that window. Maybe even build a leaf pile underneath my windowsill, that way I won't have a chance of spraining my ankles while I build up the joints in my ankle. I can practice jumping from something small and slowly increase the height..."

I start jogging to a park across town. I had hoped to jog to the park and then jog a couple of laps in order to build my stamina, but by the time that I get the park my lungs feel as if I've doused them in Kachan's sweat, making them sticky, before lighting them on fire.

I feel as if the bones in my legs will walk off without me, leaving me to live my life as a pile of muscles left on the side of a ditch.

I stop before the swings, leaning on my knees and rubbing the stitch in my side.

Why didn't I bring water with me?

I can't help panting as I slowly pick myself back up and walk around the park to cool down. I stop in the bark chips, facing the trees swallowing the park. I pull my arms in front of me, stretching them as far away from me as I can.

My last attempt to see if my fingers will extend, I suppose.

A bubble builds in my stomach and tumbles out of my throat in a laugh. It doesn't really matter if I suddenly develop a quirk or not.

I close my eyes and breath in the night air, breathing in a lungful of hope with it.

Regardless of whether or not people would call me a hero or a vigilante-

I'll save people.


	2. Chapter 2

It's past two in the morning when the crickets' incessant chirping slowly comes back to him. Sweat cools against his neck as his breathing becomes increasingly irksome. He stares at the child's balance beam in front of him.

Sweat beads his brow, opaque puffs of cold air lining his lips as his lungs explode, but it's nothing compared to the burning that radiates from his hands. He can already feel callouses forming on the pads of his fingertips, and on the borders of his palms. It does little to dull the ache that Kachan had caused in his shoulder, but the blisters on his palms are a different pain. It's as good as someone pinching him, guaranteeing that this isn't a dream.

As the cricket's drone on, his common sense slowly comes back to him. Until now, frustration and determination had been egging him on, but now it slowly drains from his body. He lets his shoulders slump. He knows that sleep is just as important for his progress, and it was being coming increasingly obvious that his body was failing him.

He's sure All Might would say some shit like, "Progress cannot be rushed!"

"Was that an impression of All Might?" a dead voice intones.

"NGHAAAHH," Izuku jumps, his sweat dampened curls scattering across his forehead.

"Sorry, kid. Didn't mean to scare you." For a second, Izuku is comforted by the information that it's just a homeless man coming back to claim his bench for the night. But then he realizes, he's not claiming the bench, but rather a tree.

"S-s-sorry, sir! I didn't m-mean to keep you awake with my training!"

The man raises an eyebrow, everything else on his face remaining completely bare. But Izuku didn't mind, he was probably just as tired as he was, if the bags under his eyes were any indication.

"Training?"

Izuku immediately clears his face of any trace of emotion, leaving the man wondering where it might have gone.

"Ye... Yes, sir," he pauses for a moment trying to rectify his balance on the beam from when his over excitement from training had crashed into him. "Well, would you l-look at the time!" Izuku glances at his blank wrist, "Seems like I should be getting home right about now, mister...?"

He hesitates before answering, "Aizawa," he says. It's hard to tell whether the pause was from him being tired, distrustful, or merely from the amusement clearly dancing in his eyes as he looks that the kid's wrist that clearly does not hold a watch.

A blush creeps up Izuku's neck, "R-right, well anyways, I'll be on my way now. Have a good night!" He waves before turning a cringing. He tries to run away, he really does, but the mun flings his scarf at him and it clings to him like gauze.

"Kid, are you nuts? It's 2:30 in the morning."

"U-u-um, why yes it is," the greenette mumbles.

"I'm walking you home." It was a slow night anyways for him, and the only troubles he had run into tonight is some kid fighting off air in the dark.

"N-no offense, s-sir. But I don't typically walk with homeless men to my house in the dead of night." Izuku fidgeted with his hands, pulling against his restraints.

At which Aizawa let out a long, suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Izuku could practically feel it from across the park. He jumps down from his perch, his dark hair trailing behind him. "Well, how do you feel about pro-heroes walking you home?"

To which Aizawa could have sworn he heard him mumble, "Presumably worse," under his breath. Aizawa pulls out his hero license and shoves it at the kid. He may not like it, but he lets Aizawa walk with him, murmuring about his hero identity as he goes, leaving Aizawa to wonder where his stutter had disappeared to.

"Eraserhead works exclusively as an underground hero, and is particularly fond of of capture missions, which explains why a homeless man's scarf wasn't as soft as I thought it would be. His quirk nullifies other quirks, but doesn't work on mutant types, and stops after he blinks. Probably gives him dry eye. But once removing their quirk, he essentially fights without a quir-"

He turns toward Aizawa with wide, awe filled eyes, that sparkle despite the fact that there's no light out, "-k."

"What," Aizawa states, rather than asking.

"Youfightquirkless," he breathes.

From stuttering to this. It was getting harder to understand what the hell this kid was saying as the night went on.

Never mind the fact that this kid knew so much about him. The only comforting was that he couldn't identify him on site.

"Yes."

"Willyoutrainme." His eyes wouldn't stop twinkling.

"No."

The kid doesn't bother whining about it.

That's a train I can get behind.

"I guess that's alright Mr. Aizawa." When they get to the front of his house, he scuffs his shoe on the pavement to buy time, "You've just given me hope. That's more than enough for now."

For now?

Aizawa raises an eyebrow

The kid glances up from his feet, before quickly looking back at the ground. "That's more than anyone has ever given me."

The silence presses in on them from all sides, with nothing but the cricket chirps to occupy the air. The silence must have been comfortable for the kid, who seemed to be hesitating to go inside, but for Eraserhead it was almost unbearable.

He clears his throat awkwardly, "It was a good impression," Mr. Aizawa intones.

This single comments leads the boy through his window with an endless grin, curls flopping against him. It only took him hours of practice, but for some reason, he didn't mind as much any more.

Before closing his window behind him, he turns to the pro and, in his best All Might impression goes, "Indeed it was, young Aizawa," and before the man could utter a single sigh, Izuku slams the window shut behind him.

The next morning when Izuku awakes it is to burning, listless eyes, blistered palms, and an unabashed grin on his face.

Maybe everything will be alright.

That is, of course, until he arrives at school, running late with his bandaged hands clasping the papers he had to turn in. He looks down at the sheet, searching for U.A's name at the top of his prospective high schools.

For as long as Izuku could remember, all he had ever wanted was to be like All Might.

But-

But... all he could think of now was that moment when All Might had said no. It was etched into his mind by a careless hand playing on a constant repeat. Izuku cringed.

He was a hero, and he saved people, and for that Izuku would always admire him. But when All Might fell into the pool of words that he had heard his whole life, he packed up his all time favorite hero, put him in a box, and tucked him deep into his heart.

No matter what Izuku might become, whether that be hero, or vigilante, All Might did not carry the sole blame.

His problems were his own after all. How could All Might know all that laid beyond a simple question?

And the simple answer was that he couldn't.

The answer was that heroes could not save everybody.

And they couldn't save him.

For a moment, he considered scratching U.A. off of the list. He stared at it for a moment, before passing it in.

Like he had told Kachan, what was the harm in trying?

Izuku thought back to his training last night, waiting to relive it all again tonight. It filled him with an infallible hope, with an unperturbed determination-

The teacher's voice broke into his thoughts, "Midoryia, didn't you also want to go to U.A.?"

Well, that died pretty quickly.

Along with me.

The entire class burst out laughing, the only two silent being Kachan and Izuku.

The person beside him clasped his stomach in a hard grip as if to keep his insides from jolting out. The sound was deafening.

Izuku sat in his chair shaking from the huge rumbling that had erupted from the classroom, while Kachan sat shaking in rage. He was quiet for approximately 2.3 seconds before bursting with anger. "You dumb, Deku! You think you're anywhere near my level?! Huh?!" He slams his chair behind with a screech and a thud before storming over to Izuku's desk and scorching it with an explosion. "You think you're better than me, huh, yoU DAMN DEKU!"

Over Kachan's shoulder, Izuku could see the teacher making a quick exit out the front, leaving him to deal with the chaos he had ensued.

Explosions ripped from the boy's hands, and Izuku found himself entranced for a moment before meeting his crimson colored eyes.

"N-nothing is going to stop me Kachan. N-n-not even you."

I'm not even sure I still want to go to U.A.!

"Not me, huh?! Maybe it will be your stuttering then."

14 years later, and Izuku is stilled shocked to see flat teeth when Kachan sneers at him, instead of the sharp teeth of a shark. Katsuki takes Izuku's already injured shoulder and slams it out of his chair and into the ground

"You think you can talk back to me you little shit!?"

Izuku levels the explosive blonde with a steely look, "Well, Kachan, you did ask."

Which, in hindsight, was maybe not the best thing to say.

Izuku went home that day with a black eye, and a bruised rib, but it wasn't anything he hadn't faced before.

If anything, this would help him with pain tolerance.

His mother ignored eye contact when placing food on the table, but that wasn't anything unusual either. No matter how much she pleaded that she wanted to protect him from the big bad world, whenever he came home fresh with cuts and bruises she would turn the other way.

At least she had agreed to the high protein diet he had requested.

That night, when Izuku quietly slipped out of his window and jogged to the far away park, he found a jelly pouch waiting for him on the balance beam with a note stuck to the front,

Prove to me you're dedicated,

and maybe I'll have something to work with

-EH


	3. Chapter 3

In the past few months Izuku has made slow but steady progress towards his means. He continued to go to the park every day, and he no longer needed to a leaf pile to jump out of his window.

That itself was a stepping stone that Izuku was happy to cast aside; it was like finally taking the training wells off of a bike. Now his window was far too mundane to present a challenge. Instead, he had to practice climbing and jumping from trees. This at least didn't have to be performed in the middle of the night, but he did get a lot of weird looks when scuttling up trees on his way home from school. It didn't help that his school uniform identified who he was, but that was quickly overshadowed by the progress he was making being able to climb up increasingly taller trees. He couldn't help the satisfaction he felt from the ache in his ankles when he hit the ground and they didn't break.

He couldn't help the smile that over took his face every time that he thought of who he had been on a few months ago. Even now, as he breathes heavily against the night, he thinks about what it feels like every night when he opens his window and slips out the crack. He can only hope that feeling never fades. He breathes in deep, letting the cold air chill his lungs.

Izuku continued switching from leg to leg as he swung at a big sturdy tree with his leg, the middle of his calf glancing off of the bark; most likely causing ginormous bruises to spread across his legs. There was only so much a park would be able to offer in preparation for his vigilante debut, but he enjoyed the ridiculous ideas his mind would form and their potential benefits.

He switches from leg to leg, tumbling to the ground less and less as he practices. The hits roll throughout his body, a testimony to his balance.

He quickly switches to doing squats beneath the play structure, pressing his arms against the base as if he were attempting to lift the structure. While he knew it was pointless to try and move the play ground he couldn't help but build a fire in his stomach as he tries harder than he thought possible. The more he pressed against the structure, the more it pressed against him almost begging him to move away from it.

His legs ache and they burn. Covered in bruises beneath his joggers, he can't help but continue training until ridiculous hours. As if he were in a video game, he hoped to move past his faithful park and into something bigger and better. He couldn't wait to outgrow the meager park that he had began at.

Izuku gives a final push against the structure, pressing as hard as he can until his face blooms like an apple, turning red to dangerous levels.

"Leg day?" Mr. Aizawa asks from the tree he just finished kicking the crap out of. Or maybe it was the other way around seeing as how the tree was still standing and the burn in Izuku's legs was ungodly.

Izuku pants heavily against his exhaustion. "Yes, Sensei!" he calls.

"Don't call me that. I'm not training you."

"It's fine," Izuku pants, "I'll win you over eventually." He relaxes his grip against the playground, "Speaking of which, at least you didn't bitch slap me with your-" Aizawa smacks him lightly with his capture weapon, but neither of them comment on how little it actual hurt.

"Nope." Izuku shakes his head causing his curls to dance, "Never mind, spoke too soon."

"Watch your language," Aizawa growls, but there's no menace behind that scowl.

Izuku ignores him, "Alright," He claps his hands together in front of him, "What's next, sensei?" He hobbles out from underneath the structure his shaking legs tumbling out from beneath him.

"Home." Aizawa jumps down from where he was perched.

"Um," he breathes, "No?"

His teacher sighs long and hard before fixing the boy with another glare, "Midoriya, you literally just collapsed from fatigue." He glances at his form while looming above him, "It's only going to hurt worse in the morning."

"Pff," the boy huffs. "It is morning. Besides, I can get up anytime I like."

The pro hero raises one eyebrow to heights that should not be possible, "Then get up."

"I said anytime I like."

"I suppose that means you don't want me to train you. Now go home," the man deadpans

"No! Wait!" Izuku tries and fails to get up multiple times his arms flopping as miserably as his legs. Aizawa lets out one long suffering sigh before picking the kid up and placing him across the back of his shoulders.

Damn kid, acting like I'm his father. Working so hard that he can't walk.

Damn fluffy hair tickling my neck.

But no matter how much the man huffs and puffs, his voice is still soft when he says, "Come on, kid. It's time to go home."

When Izuku wakes up in the morning, it is not a pleasant experience. His legs no longer burn, but that's more than likely from the fact that he can't really feel his legs at all. Izuku can only imagine what it's going to feel like when he's going to have to squat to get into his desk at school.

Izuku hobbles off to his train station bright and early in the morning. He flips through his notebook one handed as he holds onto a hook on from the ceiling with the other. He bought this notebook the moment he decided to pursue being a vigilante. Instead of tracings of heroes and their quirks, it's filled to the brim with costume ideas, maps of the city, and a list of the people he's helped so far. It's a meager list, but he can imagine how after years of being a vigilante he'll turn back to this list and remember where it all began. He could feel the nostalgia now.

The train suddenly comes to a stand still as he's reminiscing, and he bolts off of the train as the conductor comes on over the P.A. system, "There's nothing to worry about folks, just another villain attack..." the conductor continues undeterred by the groans of everyone on board.

Izuku stumbles off of the platform and runs into the crowd of people in front of him.

There are wooden police barriers in order to keep people out of danger, and there's an impressive number of heroes. They're failing to clear the area of pedestrians while at the same time attempting to clear out the fires that are painting the sky black.

Sheet after sheet enter the sky in waves as the smoke congeals together before lifting away.

Izuku shuffles through the crowd, jabbing lightly to get to the front of all. He turns to all the people around him, "What's happening?!" He has to shout over the sirens.

The person beside him is shouting into a phone, going on and on about being late because of another villain attack. His volume is the only hint that he has any awareness to his settings. Izuku turns to the left. A man with a head full of spikes answers him, "There's a slime villain. He's got some kid hostage, but none of the heroes can do shit because the kid keeps letting off explosions." The man cranes his head trying to get a better view, "They're waiting for someone with a better quirk to show up."

Of course they're waiting for someone with a better quirk-

But all of those thoughts are flushed as Izuku hears a grunt. He has no logical explanation for why that sound fills him with such dread except that he knew that sound. His breakfast melts through his stomach and begins stewing at the bottom of his feet. He stands still for a moment as if that would help him fight reality but he he is quickly hit with waves of panic as more and more noises wash over him. It's too loud. He feels as if his ears might start bleeding from this much sound. He can hear the fire crackling, the heroes shouts, the breaths of pedestrians as the fight to either get closer or farther.

He looks down at his feet to see if he really would find his stomach there. He feels as if just tilting his head, someone had to take their hand and shove it down. And when he looks at his feet he feels distant like his feet are actually miles away from where his eyes say they are.

He pushes to the very front of the crowd using hands that don't feel his own. It helps with the feelings of guilt as his shoves himself between the people in front of him. He comes to a stand still as he stares down the street into the face of a villain. But that wasn't what concerned him. It was the bundle of explosive blonde hair that the villain held in their arms, and the even more explosive fire coming from his hands.

Izuku chokes on the smoke surrounding him. A long crash suddenly comes from one of the surrounding buildings.

"Get back!" one of the heroes roars at the crowd as yet another clanging sounds.

As everyone bumps into each other to get away, Izuku's feet stay planted right where they are, in the front lines of a villain attack.

Because the villain was holding Kachan

The Kachan that calls him Deku. The one that belittles him, the one that tortures him.

The Kachan that wants to be a hero more than anything, the one that wants to save people.

The Kachan that used to love him, and the one that he can't let go of not even in the face of a monster.

Izuku snaps back into his feet, his sore and aching legs taking off down the path before he has yet another second to think.

For months he has been training, scribbling in a notebook about progress and stretches and diets. A notebook that reads, 'Hero Analysis for the Future: Vol 13,' across the front, but the Hero is crossed out with two thick lines. In it, instead of studying heroes, he's switched to writing about villains. He's read about the kinds of quirks where there isn't so much a body as a being. He scribbled theories and guesses about how something does not come from nothing. I guess now was the time to try that hypothesis. There had to be some part of him that was more vulnerable than the rest.

Izuku runs down the street as hard as he can, wishing to god that he had been able to stretch against the dull ache that thunders from his thighs down to his ankles. He throws well placed items from his book bag as he trials down the road. He works his way from the bottom up as he continues to run towards the villain, but everything seemingly passes right through him as he molds himself back together like stitches along a seam.

In a last desperate attempt, Izuku throws his book bag towards the head of the slime monster, and Izuku almost believes it to be a trick of the light when it finally catches against the slime's body.

Izuku's lungs are straining against the smoke, and his legs feel seconds away from collapsing, but he has one more chance. With a heavy grunt, Izuku throws the last thing he has on him - his notebook, burnt and crinkled as it is, but still it slashes through the villain's eye.

The slime flinches back, momentarily releasing Kachan from his grip as Izuku trips against himself.

"YOU SHITTY DEKU WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"

Izuku glances up from the pebbles at his feet, "You looked like you could use the help." His determined glare falls back into place as his legs give out from underneath him.

I guess adrenaline runs on a clock.

"STUPID DEKU, YOU CAN'T EVEN SAVE YOURSELF." Bakugo grabs Izuku's shoulders pulling him non too gently against his side. He tosses the boy's arm over his shoulder and starts limping towards the heroes half a block away.

But something is wrong. The fiery boy's hands are dry against his own as he pulls him along.

That's not right.

For as long as Izuku could remember, the boy's hands had been slick with nitroglycerin infused sweat.

And yet he continues to fire explosions against the villain. "K-Kachan..."

"Shut up!"

Izuku looks at Kachan from the side of his eye. He really did want to be a hero, didn't he? He really would do anything whether it was in his power or not.

He continues to look at him while he says, "Aim for his eyes." And if this had been any other instance, he would have shuddered from the smile that spreads across his face. But suddenly he was very glad to have that manic grin on his side.

Izuku's legs floundered underneath him as he attempted to help Bakugo to the edge of the street, but not only could he barely reach the ground, his legs would not listen to him when he said to move.

I trained too much. Now I'm just a useless Deku. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. None of this was how things were meant to happen.

Finally, one of the heroes swoops in, suddenly entangling the boys in a scarf that wasn't nearly as soft as it was supposed to be, ushering them to safety.

Glowing red eyes surrounded by floating dark hair glare at Kachan. "You," he growls, "stop over using your quirk. And you," the pro hero Eraserhead turns to the small boy gathered in the blonde's arms, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Language," he mumbles. Black stars begin to collect in the sides of his vision allowing him to utter the words, "Saving Kachan." and to hear Bakugo shout, "STUPID DEKU. WHO SAVED WHO-" before the boy collapses onto the ground, the blonde having dropped him when he started shouting.

Aizawa sighs long and hard while pinching the bridge of his nose.

And that was how he found himself giving a second piggy back ride to a small green child in just as many days.


	4. Chapter 4

Shouta maneuvers the small boy so that instead of being strung across his back, he was resting in his arms. He slams open the infirmary door with his foot, shifting Midoriya up.

Chiyo glances up from her work at the desk, unsurprised by his entrance. "Hello, Shouta dear. Another one hurt? It's a little bit early for that, classes haven't even begun for the day!" She pauses in her scolding, peaking at Midoriya as Shouta places him gently on the bed. "I don't recognize them as being a part of your class." The small heroine rolls her office chair over to where Midoriya is huddled on the covers.

Shouta glances at Chiyo, giving a soft sigh. "That's because he's not. Just a problem child I ran into on the way to school." He crouches in front of him. The kid was starkly pale, his cheeks devoid of any of his usual flush.

Chiyo looks over at him and sees the concern painted clearly in his eyes. She places her hand on his shoulder briefly before turning back to Midoriya. "This one will be fine." She pauses, "Do you care to explain why they're unconscious?" she asks as she places a gentle kiss on the boy's forehead.

"I'm sure he can explain when he wakes up. I'm leaving." Shouta stands from the perch he had taken in front of Midoriya.

"Alright, dearie, have a nice class."

When Izuku wakes up he's on a hard bed surrounded by cold air and a thin blanket.

He rolls over in bed, tucking the covers around him. His eyes fight to stay open until his eyes are startled open when he sees a comically small woman sitting in front of a much too large desk.

"Yes, yes, you're awake now, here, have some gummies," she pushes her hands against her desk, launching her rolling chair towards Izuku's bed and manually opens his hand to place multicolored sweets in his palm.

Izuku closes his eyes, scrunching his forehead as he fights against the faint headache throbbing behind his left eye. "W-Where is Aizawa-sensei?"

The small nurse raises a barely perceivable eyebrow at his use of the word, 'sensei,' unseen by Izuku with his eyes screwed shut, "He's currently in class. If you need to speak to him, you can wait here, his office, or the staff room."

"R-R-Right." Izuku stumbles to his feet trying to keep his head from moving too much, his burnt clothes straining against his shoulders and knees.

"Sit back down." Her stern voice presses against him until he plops himself onto the bed behind his knees.

"While I did take care of what was wrong, it was clear that the majority of the injuries you sustained were made over a period of time. A period of time much longer than one morning," she gives him a sharp look. "The main reasons for your collapse can be boiled down to exhaustion, and dehydration over a long period of time," her glare was grandmotherly but did no less to buffer the scolding. "In other words, you have been working too hard, with too little energy. I'd pinch your ear if I didn't think you'd bow over"

She stares at him for a couple of long, awkward moments before passing him a pile of clothes. "Here, dearie." Her eyes softened considerably behind her costume's visor. "Change out of those worn clothes."

She yanks a curtain from the wall, separating herself from him.

Decked out in U.A. sweats and a soft U.A. cotton shirt, Izuku makes his way out of the nurse's office only to realize - he has no idea where he's going.

He pokes his head back into the office, "U-Um... N-nurse-sama? Do you happen to know where...Aizawa-sensei's office is?"

She turns her head away from her work towards the nervous little boy that stands in the doorway to her infirmary. "Of course, dearie. Take a left outside the door, go all the way to the end, take a right and you'll see the nameplate."

"Thank you, nurse-sama." Izuku makes to leave, turning when he hears her voice over his shoulder.

"Call me Chiyo, dearie." He grins at her before closing the door behind him, walking with renewed purpose.

He passes a vending machine and almost disregards it before he sees an apple jelly pouch in its confines. He pauses, walking over to it. He reaches into the sweats' pockets, grabbing the wallet that he had transferred over.

The jelly pouch gives a satisfying thunk as it hits the compartment on the bottom. Lifting the tab, Izuku grabs the pouch and it gives way in his hand.

He steps away from the vending machine, continuing his way down the hall in search of Aizawa's classroom. Once it finally comes into view, Izuku slows his steps, shuffling over to the door that says, 'Aizawa,' in front.

Izuku's forehead scrunches involuntarily, his heart thundering against his new shirt. He holds his breath as he reaches for the door, only to find that it won't open.

He tugs against the door. Locked.

Izuku stares blankly at the door, wondering about where he should go.

Should I go back to Chiyo-san's office?

Should I wander around until I find the teacher's room-

His thoughts are interrupted by a loud screeching noise echoing throughout the hall. He would almost assume that someone were dying if not the notes of pure joy that he had detected.

Izuku stumbles back for a second before righting himself and turning his burning eyes to the door that the sound had come from.

"HE'S GOTTA LITTLE LISTENER THAT HE VISITS EVERY NIGHT! OH WAIT NO THAT SOUNDS CREEPY - I MEAN LIKE A DAD." Unnaturally loud shouting is coming from the door that Izuku is slowly creeping his way towards, but this isn't the same voice from before.

Another girlish shriek sounds through Izuku's ears. Izuku is standing just outside of the door when he hears, "He's adopted another kid! Oh, I like it!"

"I KNOW! I WAS WORRIED WHEN HE EXPELLED OVER HALF HIS CLASS BUT DADZAWA IS BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER!"

And with the word, 'Dadzawa,' Izuku became acutely aware that he was eavesdropping.

Does it still count if they were being loud?

"HE EVEN CARRIED HI-"

Blushing lightly, Izuku knocks against the door loudly to announce his presence, just in case they didn't want him listening.

The door bursts open fast enough to ruffle his curls and to pour cool air against his heated cheeks. "Zashi!" Says the feminine voice, better known as the R-rated hero, Midnight. "There's a green bean in the doorway! ComE LOOK!" the end of her sentence getting louder as she talked.

A lanky man with blonde hair just as tall as his body slides across the floor, his feet covered in bright yellow socks, until he bumps gently into Midnight's shoulder.

"LOOK at him bLUSHING!"

"What can we do for you, little listener?" Under the tiny wisps of a mustache is a ginormous grin that is shining just for Izuku.

"U-uhhhhh...um." Izuku stands across from them, still in the doorway as he tries to recollect the thoughts that had gone flying the moment the door opened. He blinks quickly and shakes his head as he flounders. "I...I'm looking for... Aizawa-sensei?"

His voice got quieter as his sentence went on, and the tall man, Present Mic -Zashi?- had furrowed his brows, looking like he had missed the last half. Midnight, however, caught it perfectly.

"Mhmm, we'll get to that, but first why don't you tell us about why you're not in class?" Her eyes shine mischievously as she glances at Present Mic.

"Well...t-that would be because I-I don't go here?" While still stuttering and phrased like a question, Izuku did his best to speak up for Present Mic.

"Present Mic is know for his voice quirk both as a hero and as a radio host. Because of his overpowering voice one of the trade-offs is probably a lack of hearing. This either manifested as a child when he was unable to control it, or perhaps it has been built up over the years, it's even possible that his hearing has always been bad in order to protect himself from his quirk-"

Present Mic and Midnight's high five cuts him off.

"We found him," Present Mic whispers. Except, with his quirk and personality it's not a whisper at all, besides the fact that Izuku was standing right in front of them and could hear him perfectly fine.

"E-Excuse m-me?!"

"Did you hear that muttering? It was precious!" Midnight exclaims before looking at Present Mic's 'duh' face. "Whoops, never mind. It was really cute though."

They turn back to him before looking at each other once more and placing firm hands on either of Izuku's shoulders and steering him towards the bright yellow couch in the middle of the room.

They proceed to stare at Izuku for seconds on end while he blushes scarlet. To keep from hiding his face in his arms he fiddles with his fingers, wrenching them in his lap.

I should have just picked the lock to Aizawa-sensei's office.

Wait, no, Izuku, that's BAD.

Midnight squeals again in a way that makes Izuku flinch where he sits.

"Your dad is in class right now," Present Mic explains patiently as if this were an everyday conversation.

Izuku chokes on air, his fingers stilling in his lap, "Dad?!"

"Yes," Midnight says, grinning the brightest smile that just spelled trouble.

"So here's what we're going to need you to do..."

Izuku did not like what he was doing. He could think of only 2 people that would enjoy what he was doing.

Aizawa? No. Mom? No. All Might? No. Slime villain? Okay, maybe.

He inched closer to the huge door in front of him before knocking quickly and harshly against it.

He did not want to be here.

"Come in," comes a soft, cheerful voice from behind the door.

The door slides open seamlessly when Izuku walks in. He could see that behind the desk was a bear-rat-mouse thing sitting on a stack of books.

Nedzu's gaze pierces through the little boy in his doorway. He quirks his mouth into a smile before saying, "Midoriya Izuku." It wasn't a question, "Would you care to have some tea with me?"

Izuku fights against a cringe, "...yes."

Izuku leans forward as he walks to the principal's desk, hands shuffling by his sides. It's awkwardly silent, or at least it feels that way as sweat drips down Izuku's brow. He sits in the guest chair across from him as the small principal pours him some tea. "How...H-"

"How did I know you were Midoriya Izuku?" He cuts him off before he has his chance to stutter through his question.

Izuku nods slowly, not even attempting to speak.

Stupid, you can finally stand up to Kachan, but you can't talk to a walking teddy bear?

But Principal Nedzu was a whole new type of terrifying that Izuku hasn't had the pleasure to experience just yet. Kachan bit at him with fiery words and explosions. Aizawa poked at him with tired stares and blunt words. Even his mom prodded him with concern and eyes that refused to see.

Nedzu, however, would twist you with sweet words, and gestures that would lead you to a sense of comfort if only his eyes were less shiny, and his smile less fake.

It was unnerving to say the least.

"Aizawa happened to call on his way to work, asking if he would be able to use Recovery Girl's ability for a student of his that did not attend U.A. I, of course, agreed seeing as how I would never want a child to be in potential danger.

"However, in exchange, I asked for a report of this student that I would allow onto my school's ground." He pauses, and his smile had yet to leave his face. He takes a deep sip of his tea. "I'm sure you understand that while I would love for you to heal in the confines of U.A., my students' safety must be placed first."

Izuku stares at the bear man before him, searching his face incapable of reading human emotion. "I understand."

"I'm glad. Not to worry, Aizawa had nothing but a glowing recommendation for you. Truly, I was impressed that you were able to have such an effect on him." Nedzu stares through him, almost as if he were trying to pin him to the door behind him. "Especially for being quirkless."

He said this as if it had been an afterthought as he poured himself and Izuku another cup of tea, but the words hung in the air between them. Izuku knew that he was looking for something, anything. Whether that be what Aizawa was able to see, or for some way to discredit his words, Izuku didn't know.

But he knew that if he could handle years of torment, his mother's eyes sliding away from his own, Kachan leaving bruises and burns, his all-time favorite hero telling him that he could not be a hero, then surely, he could handle this creature choosing to tell him nothing but the truth.

Yes, he was quirkless.

No, that would not change. But-

"My relationship with Aizawa-sensei has nothing to do with me being quirkless," Izuku checks his glower, "It might be hard for you to believe it, but quirkless people aren't the same as helpless people. A helpless person... is someone who can't fight anymore for whatever they're fighting for. But I'm just getting started, Nedzu-sama. I have a lot more fight left in me to give. My battle has just begun. If I have to face media backlash, if I have to work in the shadows, even if I have to face the world's biggest villain, I will. I will do anything, handle everything the universe has to throw at me, and I will make it better. I'll save people." He blinks quickly, blowing the rant away from his mind. "T-That's what heroes do...isn't it?"

"I have a feeling you already know the answer to that." He looks at the boy with a new appreciation, but he still has his doubts. "Words are nice, and where I happen to excel, but that's all they are - words. Pretty little things to offer comfort and hate without actually doing anything at all."

Just words, he says. If only words could stay that way, instead of taking on a life of their own, pummeling your mind until they beat through all of the walls you had finally managed to build. They hurt even more than Kachan's fists. Words are anything but useless.

Before he knows it, Izuku finds himself shaking his head. "I-I think that... words have a lot of power Nedzu-sama. More than you're giving them credit for." With that, Izuku gets up from his seat and makes for the door, "Thank you for the tea," he says, closing the door behind him.

He stands just outside the door, staring at nothing in particular as he rearranges his thoughts before his task comes crashing back into his mind.

I forgot to put the salt in his tea!

I hope Present Mic-san, and Midnight-san won't be upset with me!

"That's alright, little listener. We've got something else planned. Something even BETTER!"

For being a hero, his grin was surprisingly malicious.

Midnight eases the jelly pouch out of Izuku's hands. "We'll make sure to give this to him." Izuku opens his mouth to speak before getting cut off when Midnight holds up her hand, "With the note."

"Don't worry, we won't forget! Now, we just need you to avoid Aizawa all day, and when he catches you," Present Mic winks and strikes a ridiculous pose, "You know what to do!"

Izuku blushes furiously, "R-right," he gulps.

"We believe in you!" Midnight shouts as she shoves him back out of the door.

At least they weren't angry with me. I should have expected better of pro-heroes. But then again... they did ask me to spike their boss's tea with salt...

All Izuku had to do was avoid Aizawa all day. He could do that.

Right?

We're talking about a hero who specializes in capture.

He has a capture weapon. His entire career was built on his ability to capture criminals, let alone a boy still in junior high.

But Izuku figures it would be good practice for the future.

He was sure that one day, heroes would come after him for being a vigilante.

No matter how much good he brought about, he was still breaking the law. It would be good to remember that.

But for now, Izuku heads to where the gyms are. As he was leaving Present Mic and Midnight had shoved a school map into his hands, pushing him outside the teacher's office.

"Do they even have classes to teach? Why are they always in the teacher's office?" Izuku mutters to himself.

"Who?" asks a face that had miraculously popped out from the ground that Izuku was walking on.

"NNAHHHgh," Izuku screams, jumping back. "W-wha...WHAT?!"

The face suddenly pops back up from the ground, carrying a body with him.

A nude body.

Because of course.

Izuku squeals as he hides his scarlet face in his arms, and turns around fast enough to give himself whiplash.

"Sorry! Sir Nighteye-Sensei called, asking me to sneak you into my class!"

"Was...D-Did he see?" Izuku glances back at him.

The man laughs boisterously at the incredulous look on Izuku's face, "No, he has to touch a person for his quirk to work. He got a call from Present Mic and Midnight! That's who you were talking about, right?"

"Ye-"

"Come on! We have to get back to class!" He grabs a pair of blue sweats that had been on the ground around the corner, slipping them on.

"W-Won't someone n-notice me?!"

"Yep," he states, "but no one will say anything."

"Oh."

"I'm Mirio, Mirio Togata! It's nice to meet you!" He shoves a hand in Izuku's direction for a handshake.

Except, when Izuku tentatively reaches forward to grab his hand, it passes through. Mirio laughs again at the face that Izuku pulls, but it doesn't feel like he's laughing at him.

"Your quirk. Is it phasing?"

"Close!" Mirio holds open the door to the gym for Izuku open, "Permeation! If I activate the quirk through my whole body, I'm able of passing through anything, and that includes the ground!"

Izuku wishes for his burnt and battered notebook more than ever, but he can only hope that it wasn't lost in the villain attack for forever.

Izuku stops when he sees the gym before him. The breath gets taken away from him in a way that doesn't include a punch to the gut. It's big and falls in line with the rest of U.A. but there is a huge obstacle course covering the entirety of the gym.

"Today is quirkless training!"

Everyday is quirkless training.

By the end of it, Izuku is sweating profusely, his eyes narrow in determination as he watches the last few remaining people finish the obstacle course.

Izuku came very close to the bottom of the class, but that was to be expected.

It prompted Mirio to clap him on the shoulder, "Were they strong?" he asks.

"Yes." He pauses. "B-But it's not just that. I-I mean... of course they're strong. But...not just physically. It's the control. Or maybe it's the experience."

Facing away from him, Tamaki mumbles, "If you can't tell how much effort all of us have put in, then there's no way for you to grow either."

"Then it's a good thing Midoriya-kun came today! Isn't it!" Nejire cheers.

"Yes!" Mirio pumps his fist into the air, "Next time we'll do even better! Go beyond!"

"PLUS ULTRA!" Izuku and Nejire shout together, Tamaki mumbling under his breath.

"Now lunch!"

Shouta visits Chiyo as soon as he is able, but finds that the little trouble maker was no where to be found.

"Check the teacher's office, Shouta dear," she said, but when he slammed open the door to the office he didn't see a green head. Instead, all he saw were the evil smirks coming from his two 'best friends.' Typically he payed them no mind opting to ignore their antics, but clearly they were up to something.

"Spill," he growled as he stormed across the office to where they were perched around his desk like the gross, dirty little birds they were.

"Always so dramatic, Shou!" Nemuri says, which coming from either one of them would have sounded comical.

"Yeah! What makes you think we know anything!" Hizashi says loudly. For him, it was actually pretty quiet. Suspicious.

Shouta glares. Hizashi grins like a maniac as he passes a jelly pouch with a note attached to him.

Could you call my school and tell them I'm sick? Thanks, Sensei! You were right! I think I'll take this day to relax and explore U.A.! -Midoriya

Exploring unsupervised went without having to be said.

Shouta squeezes the jelly pouch angrily into his mouth as he stares grumpily at the note in his other hand.

He needed a nap.

Hizashi spills onto the floor and Nemuri begins to clutch at her stomach as they try and contain their laughter.

Zashi is literally rolling on the floor laughing. He's squishing my sleeping bag!

Aizawa pokes at him with his foot so that he rolls away from the bright yellow oasis.

"D-Did..." he breaks of laughing again before spouting, "DID YOU SEE HIS FACE!?"

Nemuri is pounding on his desk with the other fist clutching her gut, her laughs coming in silent pants.

"Could you stop?" Shouta tries to ask politely, but they aren't letting up. "Will you knock it off?!" Shouta shouts, "This kid will run himself into the ground first chance he gets and you guys just let him loose."

And they say I'm the dramatic one.

Nemuri tries her best to stop laughing, "Relax, Shou. We gave the kid very specific directions," she calms breathlessly, patting his shoulder.

Shit.

Izuku was halfway through his Katsudon when Present Mic comes on the intercom, "Hey little listeners, I just wanted to let everyone know that no matter what, it's your time to shine." And while some might mistake this as an inspiring, albeit weird, announcement, Izuku knew better. Now, it was time to run.

"Hey, Midoriya-kun, where are you going-?" Nejire asks.

"Bathroom!" he blurts before running off as fast as he can.

'He must have a stomachache," comes Mirio's fading voice.

He's not entirely sure of where he's going, just that he's supposed to be running. But in the back of his mind, an idea blossoms leading him back to the principal's office.

Izuku doesn't know where the small mammal is, but he will be eternally grateful that he is not in his office.

Walking to the tea set that he keeps beside his desk, Izuku slips out the tons of salt packets that he had stored in his pockets.

Izuku grabs the lid from the kettle, pouring as much as salt as he dares, constantly looking back at the door as he pulls his lower lip between his teeth.

He stuffs the packets back into his pocket as he glances around looking for something to stir in the salt.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." He looks around, sweat pouring down his face. He scrambles before reaching for the pen at his desk. He stirs as fast and as best as he can, retracting his hand only once he's satisfied.

Placing the lid back on the kettle he quickly walks over to the door, tripping over his feet.

Shouta sees him just as he is leaving the principal Nedzu's office. They make eye contact before Izuku bolts from in front of the tall door, running down the hallway and away from Shouta.

A ways down the hall way, Shouta finally snaps, "Damnit, Izuku, get back here!"

The boy turns toward him, bright green curls pausing, "Awe, Dad, did you just call me Izuku?"

"Did you just call me Dad?!"

A warm feeling blooms in his chest, but he decidedly ignores it in favor of tackling the green gremlin in front of him.

Izuku's face smashes against the ground. "Ow," he mutters.

Only once Shouta yanks him to his feet does he look up at where they were.

Across from him is Hizashi and Nemuri, their fists shoved deep into a shared bag of popcorn.

Shouta looks back over to Izuku, if only to make sure that he's still there underneath his hand, and he sees the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

And I'm the dramatic one.

"Come on," Shouta growls with no bite, "I called your school, but clearly you're feeling better. It's time to get you home."

Hizashi and Nemuri grin and wave at their retreating figures leaving Shouta to sigh. He really needed a nap.

Once Izuku was finally home, and under a promise to stay in tonight, Shouta had headed back to school in order to meet Nedzu.

He pours his own cup of tea, foregoing the sugar, "I would like to recommend Izuku for the hero course, starting next year."

Nedzu levels his gaze at him looking for any fault or hesitation in his face. "You're sure?" he asks.

For the first time that day, Shouta grins. It was the manic grin that he typically would save for his logical ruses, but today was a special occasion. "I'm sure." He was absolutely certain that the kid would make a fantastic hero one day.

Nedzu hums his agreement before they both take a sip of the tea he had poured.

Shouta startled, sputtering the sharp and sour taste out of his mouth, while Nedzu merely swallowed his mouthful and placed his cup to the side.

"I'll draw up the paperwork," Nedzu says as Shouta attempts to cough up his lungs.

"Great," he wheezes.


	5. Chapter 5

Shouta knocks three quick and precise knocks against the door and waits for Midoriya Inko to answer the door.

She does, quickly and with an apron tied around her plump waist. "How can I help you?" she smiles.

Aizawa clears his throat, seeing a small and modest apartment behind her, "I'm here to talk to you about your son," he pulls out his hero license as an afterthought and hands it to her. "I would like-"

He gets cut off by a small choking sound coming from the small woman in front of him. He furrows his brows, confused.

"Is he alright?!" she cries.

Aizawa's brow clears into his typical deadpan expression. He should have figured that her first thought would be for her son's safety.

"He's fine," he clarifies, waving her off, "I wanted to talk to you about recommending him for the hero course at U.A.-"

Inko's face clears, but her voice slowly fills with anger, "I think you have the wrong house," Inko cuts in. She looks like she would slam the door in his face if she weren't so polite; definitely Midoriya's mother. Her face had gone from concerned mother to an expression to rival Shouta's own.

He glances at her green hair, and wide eyes, "I'm looking for Midoriya Inko," he intones, "Are you not Midoriya Izuku's mother? If not, my mistake," he says in a decidedly unapologetic voice. He knows he has the right house.

The woman before him quietly sighs, opening the door wider in order to let him in, "Would you like some tea, Eraserhead-sama?"

"Yes, please. And call me Aizawa."

Once they're settled on the couch, Shouta once again broaches the topic. "Lately I've been working with your son in his attempt to become a hero. As it's the time for students to begin applying for high schools, I thought that now would be a perfect time to extend an offer of recommendation to Izuku for the hero course at U.A. He will, of course, have to go through tests to get in, but it won't be nearly as rigorous-"

Shouta once again gets cut off, "Mom, I'm home!" Izuku calls as he walks in, his hands knotted in the handles of grocery bags. He stops in the entryway to the living room.

When Izuku walks into his home, he expects to see his mom in the kitchen or maybe even cleaning.

He does not expect to see the pro hero Eraserhead on his couch drinking tea with said mother. And the picture of just how mundane it is drags a laugh out of Izuku's stomach.

"Izuku! That is not how we welcome guests!" his mom chides.

Aizawa waves her off, taking a sip of his tea. "It's fine, Midoriya-san. How could I feel bitter when I have such sweet tea to temper me?" He raises an eyebrow at the teen.

And that's when he remembers that just hours before he had dumped an absurd amount of salt packets into the principal of U.A. high's tea.

Oh, shit. This isn't mundane at all! This is a set-up! This is how I'm going to die!

"Y-Yeah...my mom's...pretty good at t-that."

Aizawa watches him flounder as he tries to keep from covering his increasingly red face. His hands twitch at his sides, weighed down by the groceries. Izuku slowly tries to inch his way out of the room.

"A-Anyways, Aizawa-sensei. I-It's...nice...to see you, as always." Izuku crouches in preparation to bolt from the room.

I can't believe he came to my house to tell my mom on me!

"I s-should put away the groceries-"

Izuku dashes, only to slam to a stop when Aizawa says, "Wait," in that terrifyingly quiet way he has. He didn't even have to use his capture weapon.

"I was just telling your mom about all of the fun things you've been up to," Aizawa grins. Izuku gulps. And Inko just looks confused.

"Y-yep...lots of fun stuff! I'm sure Yamada-san, and Kayama-san would agree..." Izuku tries his best to stare innocently at Aizawa, but the sweat beading his brow betrays him.

That's right, Izuku. You're just a poor little boy who couldn't help but be coerced into doing evil.

Aizawa narrows his eyes. "I'm sure," he says, waving him off. "As I was saying," Aizawa holds his eyes, "I would like to recommend Midoriya-kun for the hero course at U.A."

"What?"

"No."

"Mom!"

"Midoriya-san-"

"No.

"Aizawa-san. Forgive me, but I'm not sure if you could understand how I feel."The backs of her eyes are beginning to burn. She clenches her fists and meets Izuku's eyes briefly before turning back to Aizawa. "Everyday heroes go out and save the world. And I am eternally grateful for them, but they get hurt in the process." Her voice is beginning to crack and she tries to pull it together, taking a deep breath, "Izuku doesn't have a quirk to protect him, and I couldn't stand for him to be hurt like that." She sniffs and briefly closes her eyes to keep from crying. Now wasn't the time for crying. She had to calmly explain why what they were saying just didn't make sense. She had to show Izuku once and for all what he was capable of. "You can't be a hero, sweetie," she says softly. "I'm sorry, but you just can't. It would hurt too much."

Aizawa had been looking at Izuku the whole time, but now he finally turns towards Inko, a plaintive look on his face, hands twitching in his lap, "I think what you mean to say is that it would hurt you too much."

"That's-"

He cuts her off by putting his hand in the air. "Heroes have to accept everyday that we are not invincible, and that we cannot save everyone. It's a hard truth to swallow. But people forget that those aren't the requirements for being a hero." Even if his voice is dead, and his face is blank, his eyes are sad and they look at Inko with pity. "A hero is someone who will do anything in their power to save people. No matter what." It wouldn't do Aizawa any good to get upset, it never does. No matter how irritatingly ignorant a person may seem, it was his job as an educator to then educate them. "Regardless of what you believe your son is capable of, he will be a hero. The only part of this decision you can effect is whether or not he'll be trained. Whether or not he'll go to U.A." Aizawa finally looks away from Inko to glance at Izuku. "There is no doubt in my mind that this is what Izuku was made to do. Your decision is how safe he'll be while doing it."

Inko is shocked into silence, staring at the man that had the audacity to come into her home and spout nonsense.

She furrows her brow and glances over to Izuku to find him standing, grocery bags at his feet, with tears pooling in his bright green eyes and pouring down his face.

And even though she clearly sees the tears in his eyes, she can't help but acknowledge the pure happiness that sits in his eyes and across his face.

He looks beautiful. Like there's a sun that shines just for him and he can't help but bask in the warmth.

She can only hope that it won't set too soon.

It's only now that Inko really sees her son. She forces her self to look at him and take it all in. She sees the scrapes and burns the coat his arms and line his legs. She sees him. Behind his tears is the same stubborn look that he's always had, but underneath even that she sees a young man.

She remembers the moment that the doctor had told her that her son was quirkless. It would be impossible to forget. It's been playing on repeat in her head ever since. Time froze that day, and in her mind Izuku had never grown out of that 4 year old boy that wanted so badly to be a hero.

And while one of those things has stayed the same, Izuku is no longer the 4 year old boy that he was.

Her mind screams at her, telling her that he's too young to know what he wants.

But the longer she looks at Izuku crying- now collapsed on the carpet in a fit of sobs, Aizawa running to his side to collect him in his arms- the more she realizes that no matter how young he may seem, he's faced so many different things in his life, and never once has he faltered in his determination to become a hero. It has been something that he has always wanted. She had always believed it to be a dream, one that would disappear in the morning along with the moon.

But for him, it was a prophecy. It was something he was destined to do, if only he could be given the time of day, if only someone would give him the sun.

Just minutes ago she had been trying her best to hold in her tears, but looking at her child- and how broken she had caused him to be- she finally allows for the tears to spill down her cheeks.

No matter how happy he seemed to be with what Aizawa had told him, that immense joy came from being told thousands and thousands of times that he could never become a hero.

That he wasn't good enough.

And all it took was for one single person to tell him that he was capable. That he could be a hero.

And that person hadn't been her. If only it had been. An intense claw of regret pushes against her chest making her sob harder. Her vision got blurrier, causing her to blink as fast as she can to keep Izuku from leaving her sights.

It felt as if the world had shattered beneath her fingers, and even with broken glass getting in the way of her vision she could see better than ever before.

She slowly picks herself up off of the couch, walking over to where he was crouched in Aizawa's arms. Her entire body is the embodiment of a flinch as she kneels in front of the two of them, her hand stretched out in front of her reaching for her child.

Aizawa has been a better parent than either of us, hasn't he, Hisashi?

I'm sorry, Izuku. I'm so sorry.

Tears have always been made out to be weak, but Inko had never seen her son so strong, tears rolling steadily down his face.

She gently nudges the dark green curls out of his face, not even bothering to wipe away the overflowing amount of water on his face. His face has collapsed into itself, scrunched and crumpled. She frames his face in her hands.

I did this to him, didn't I?

My poor baby, having to do everything all by himself. Having to hold himself up and continue on even when I...even when I was hurting him.

"Kid-" Aizawa sounds flustered and it causes a wet and gurgled giggle to bubble out of Inko.

It was her turn to take care of her son.

The years of ignoring and neglecting him were gone.

She takes him into her arms, and he tucks his head into her shoulder, his own still shaking with the force of his sobs. Inko barriers her head in his curls, placing her mouth just above his ear. "You can be a hero, Izuku," she whispers, "I'm sorry that I didn't see that until now."

Aizawa closes the door quietly behind him, leaving them to cry together on the floor. He'll send the paperwork in the morning, but as he leaves he is filled with an overwhelming sense of peace and warmth.


	6. Chapter 6

When leaving the marketplace Touya feels tired in that relaxed, achy sort of way. It was the good sort of tired. The kind that fills your muscles and makes your bones heavy; but his chest felt lighter than it had in awhile. It felt as if his heart would fly away, but he didn't mind.

He secretly enjoyed the sort of weightlessness it lended him.

It lead him home, away from the racket of the marketplace into the quiet thrum of the alleyways he slipped through.

Touya didn't know if he would call where he lived home, but it had been good to him.

That is if he didn't mind the silence.

He didn't.

Silence meant that he was safe. That he could round a corner without fear of flinching in preparation for a hit, or his legs getting swept from underneath him. Silence was a cocoon that whispered to him softly in a way that he didn't mind at all.

It eased the constant pain in his chest to be able to walk around knowing that he was the scariest thing he would see all day.

Maybe that was why he had charred his skin.

But he hates the idea that Enji could influence any of his decisions, no matter how true it may be.

It had become habit over the years to flinch when he looked in the mirror. He would catch sight of his bright red hair and all of the bruises that would cover his body and he would be filled with an overwhelming amount of hatred that burned the back of his throat and eyes. He would look into the mirror and see his father. The way he would smile and laugh at something so cruel, so disgusting that it couldn't ever be misconstrued as funny. He would see the way his mother sneered at his hair, and grimaced at his burns.

He still remembers the night that he had left, no matter how much he wished he could forget. It had felt so dark under the florescent lights and Touya couldn't help but be swallowed by the air that covered him.

Touya knew that he was a coward.

He knew that he needed to leave, but that did little to negate the pit that had been amassing in his stomach ever since.

Shouto had been so small growing up.

He would shirk away from them, trying his best not to flinch, having been separated from them all but Enji long before.

Enji had always said that Shouto was better than them. That he was special. But Touya didn't feel jealous over the obvious favoritism.

He couldn't help but look over the little boy in pity.

He would catch glimpses of him sometimes. The little boy that had ice running through his veins.

Every time Touya saw him, he would be covered in new bruises and the gentle tint of hypothermia that covered him limbs and disappeared behind his clothes. Touya may not have been able to see everything, but he had lived through it. He knew.

And so, Touya Todoroki was a coward. He saw, and he knew, and he ignored.

He ran.

As fast as he could.

That's what cowards do.

But if Todoroki Enji had taught him anything, it was that being strong was more painful than being weak ever could be.

If he were weak, he could hide behind heroes, despite how ineffective they might be.

But strength... that was something that would taunt you into a sense of comfort while it slowly whittled away your sanity. If Touya had really been strong, then Enji wouldn't have abandoned him. If Touya was strong then he wouldn't have left. He can't help but be grateful that he was weak.

He was lucky that Enji had deemed him somehow less than Shouto. He really was, but the thought made him want to gag against his shame as it came to a boil in his stomach.

He remembered Enji, telling him that it was all for Touya.

So that he could be as strong as possible, so that he would be able to surpass even All Might.

He remembers being filled with so much hatred and dread and anger, and yet being completely destitute that it would burn him more than his flames ever could.

And so Touya stripped himself of his past life until he was completely unrecognizable.

His bright red hair became a burnt black, and his bruises and burns and scars became charred.

He didn't scream, that particular habit long since beaten out of him.

But there was nothing he could do to his memories. Those couldn't be so easily set alight.

Maybe he looked ugly, and maybe kids flinched when they saw him. But when Touya looked in the mirror, he smiled- he couldn't help it.

Touya looked scary.

A lot scarier than a hero who beat his children. Scarier than Touya's nightmares, and much scarier than the real thing. The flames that coated Endeavor's face, and the manic grin that he carried with him couldn't compete with the image of a villain.

Touya had always been filled with triumph when he would see that Endeavor was still the number two hero.

Although he was filled with disgust in that his ranking was even that high.

Society truly was blind when it came to their heroes.

Touya could only hope that if he were the number one villain, maybe he could beat the number two hero. Someday.

And maybe that would be the day when he would finally get a full nights rest.

The air surrounding him as he walked back to his warehouse was still warm and it swaddled him in it's humility. It almost felt like a mother's hug, but Touya could only guess at that.

Instead of loving embraces, and a mother's love... instead, he had cold shoulders and cold eyes.

It had always been ironic to him how his mother's quirk had seemingly seeped into her soul, and by extension, his, despite the flames that poured from his hands and coated his body.

He had spent his entire day in the market stealing and catching glances of families out of the side of his eye

Touya had never been one to wish for something he couldn't have, but sometimes he thought it might be nice to have something similar to what these families had.

Money, however, was a different issue. Because he could clearly have that.

But he couldn't steal a family. Oh, how he sometimes wished he could.

When he would watch sons on their father's shoulders, and mother's holding hands, he was filled with an indescribable feeling.

He wasn't sure if it was jealousy or bitterness, but it left a sour taste in his mouth and a hole in his chest. He often lost his appetite from watching them, and some days he had to try his best not to gag against the cotton that filled his gums.

No matter how sweet they appeared to be, no matter how much love filled their eyes and actions, Touya knew better.

The best Endeavor had ever been capable of was a pat on the shoulder, and even that sent Touya's senses reeling with nausea and disgust. It had been difficult for him to keep a grimace from his face. And after Shouto received his quirk, Endeavor never even glanced at him.

He didn't know if he should feel thankful or guilty, but most of the time it was a combination of both that ate away at him until he felt like he was merely an outline of himself.

Shouto had been his savior. He had been the distraction that he so needed in order to escape. He could finally leave without fear of his father coming after his 'precious' prodigy.

Shouto didn't know that he had saved him, in fact Shouto was probably filled with resentment towards him for being able to leave.

Sometimes he found himself thinking about his brothers and sister.

He didn't often think for long; typically, a shard of glass would find its way into his heart plunging deep into old scars. He imagines how miserable they must be, how miserable he had been. And so he shuts that box and he places it in a long line of boxes labeled, Don't Think About It, and so he wouldn't. At least not for long.

When Touya had left for the market in the morning, he had been fine, excited even. But that ended when he let his thoughts tumble into the crack in his coping mechanism.

All he was gonna do was pick pocket off of some dicks with too much money, and maybe steal some food off of a couple of carts.

It would be a good day, the first in a while where he wouldn't come home covered in blood. Was that too much to ask for?

Apparently, yes.

Because no matter how many goodies lined his pockets and no matter how many coins were buffered by the cash he had taken his day was still a steaming pile of crap.

Distracted by his thoughts, he had failed to listen for noises as he cut across alleys.

Now, would he regret coming to this kid's aide? No.

Would he regret kicking the ever living shit out of this man? Definitely not.

But that doesn't mean that Touya didn't regret getting his clothes dirty, or that his day, as it now was, sucked ass.

Truly, he would punch god in the face with a fiery fist if given the chance.

But, no. Instead, all he can do is punch this dude.

When coming around the corner, fully enveloped in his thoughts, he had stumbled upon a man tearing his hand across a child's face.

He couldn't help the images that came to mind of burning fists, broken skin, and of Touya crumpled against the ground. Time and time again, Endeavor had slapped Touya's face hard enough to make it snap back. And that had been tame. It was nothing compared to the nightmares that he had to endure, and yet, it wasn't really any better than the rest.

Whimpers pressed against his ears as his vision blurred before him. He couldn't tell if he were the one whimpering or maybe if that was the child. He couldn't stop his hands from shaking against his sides, or from his eyes burning into the back of his head.

He couldn't help but be overcome with visions of what wasn't there, leaving him paralyzed in a fear that has come years too late, and at one of the most inconvenient times.

He stands just around the bend of the alley, seeing the man's palm strike against the little boy's cheek. A flush immediately appears that Touya knows will bruise. The smack reverberates through his chest, and Touya becomes paralyzed in an intense sense of fear.

No matter how much time has passed, how different he tells himself that he is- he can't help but freeze before the memories in front of him. His hands shake, aching to make contact with the man's face harder than he could ever punch that little boy.

He cowers in a way that reminds him frighteningly of himself. His shoulders hunch away from the man, and his eyes are downcast as if he had been the one to do something wrong.

His head is working through quick sand as he pushes his instinct to run away. He takes a slow step forward before pressing on ahead, trying his best not to stumble as his knees quake beneath him, sprinting towards the man. He feels a grin take over his face, and suppresses the urge he feels to surround his fists in fire. He'd rather feel the satisfaction of hearing the creaks and cracks beneath his fist without his quirk detracting from justice.

He lets his fire swallow the rest of his body in an attempt to warm his limbs, throwing himself towards the man like a beacon in the dark.

He needs to know what it would feel like to beat absolute scum into the depths of hell.

It may not be as good as beating Endeavor, but Touya can only hope that it'll feel just as good as he takes on Endeavor's face in his head.

Once again, Izuku finds himself climbing out of his bedroom window in the middle of the night.

This time, however, it wasn't out of a need to train, or even because he felt bitter and overwhelmed with a constant need to get away.

No, Izuku felt happy.

He had dinner with his mom once Aizawa had left, and after washing the dishes she had tucked him in like she had when he was a kid. It had been a little ridiculous in the way that she hadn't wanted to look away from him, but Izuku felt loved and well cared for, and he tried not to mind the sense of smothering.

After she had tucked him in, he had waited for her shuffling to fade. The second he heard her door close he jumped out of bed making for his closet.

He pulls on tight black joggers, pulling on the string around his hips and tying a hasty bow. He grabs his bright red shoes, before hesitating.

I want myself to be identifiable as a vigilante, but wearing the shoes that Midoriya Izuku wears everyday probably wouldn't be a great idea.

And so he places them back, trading them for an identical, bright green pair.

Perfect.

He grabs a white t-shirt with the bold print reading, "HERO."

Izuku feels a little ridiculous, but he's finally decided that Hero will be his name. It's everything he's aspired to be, it's what inspired him to be a vigilante, and now, it was something that he wanted nothing to do with. Perhaps it would put people at ease if he broadcasts his intentions, but more importantly it puts Izuku at ease. A sense of warmth spills across his chest as he pulls it over his head.

He is a hero, just not in the way he had originally imagined.

He grabs a half mask from underneath his mattress and makes his way towards his window and tries to, as discreetly as possible, make his way out. His feet hit the ground softly beneath him, the grass bending beneath his weight.

Once around the corner of his house, he finally puts on his mask. He breathes in deep with the exhilaration that runs through his bones.

Aizawa was right. This was something that Izuku was destined to do. He could feel it in the way that the air moved around him and in the sweat that began to gather underneath his mask.

Izuku couldn't help the grin that split across his face.

It felt as if he had finally found a home, in which he could spend the rest of his life.

It wasn't a place, or even a person, but Izuku fit perfectly.

No matter how hard he had been working, no matter how many times he had collapsed and gotten back up, he had been constantly filled with the need to help people. He couldn't help but think that his progress was slow in coming, but he knew not to jump the gun.

He knew that he was stronger than before, both physically and emotionally, but he also knew that he had originally set out to help people - and Izuku felt frustrated that he hadn't been able to do that yet.

The only fight that he's had against a villain had been to save Kachan and he had ended up being the victim!

But when Izuku put on his mask and ran from alley to alley, he felt like he could do anything. As if when he breathed in, he wasn't breathing air, but adrenaline and a sense of magic.

He had trained for months at this point, and he would continue to train even if he got into U.A. But right now he couldn't help but crave action that everyday life couldn't provide for him. The feeling dug itself into his bones asking to be released.

As he roams the streets, he continues looking for anything suspicious.

As he walks, a question gets stuck in his head, something that he had been mulling over ever since he had turned in the sheet of his potential high schools into his teacher- did he even want to go to U.A.?

It was the place of his dreams. It's where Aizawa teaches, and All Might graduated from.

It's where heroes go.

But...Izuku's not a hero, doesn't want to be a hero. The thought itself fills him to the brim with undisguised dread.

Aizawa had been kind, but for his entire life when he imagined a hero it had always been All Might. He couldn't help but to drown in the deep sadness that now came with that image.

That's why he's out, roaming the streets, looking for crime on a Friday night.

Heroes were disappointments that had ultimately led to him being a vigilante. He's worked so hard for months on end now and for what? For Aizawa to swoop in and make everything okay?

Nothing was okay - he was still getting bullied, he was still quirkless, he was still a stupid useless Deku.

Izuku would be eternally grateful for all that Aizawa has done for him. His support filled him with a strength that he hadn't realized that he had...but...he was still a hero, and Izuku was still a Deku.

He couldn't help but think that heroes were particularly inept when it came to talking someone away from an emotional ledge. They were there to save you if you were in danger of a villain, but what if that villain was yourself? What then?

How do you save someone from themselves?

Aizawa said it himself: he couldn't save everyone; and he certainly couldn't save Izuku.

He had to do that for himself, and for as many people as he could. Just because he was more attentive than All Might didn't detract away from his job. This wasn't a game where he could 'win' points. He's a hero, and a teacher at that.

But-

But there was someone in an alley beating a dude senseless. Worry about your existential crisis later!

Izuku leaps forwards without a second thought and attempts to shove the villain away from the man he had climbed on top of.

He can hear a kid's light foot steps running away from the alley.

Izuku makes the mistake of glancing down, confusing him as to whether or not he's looking at a man or a body lying on the ground. They're covered in blood and Izuku can see it slowly dripping from his clothes onto the dark pavement beneath him.

He wrenches his head up to stare at the villain, and for a second he reminds him of Kachan.

Never mind the fact that the two men don't look anything alike.

Forgetting that Kachan doesn't have dark hair or charred skin that he had to staple back together.

But the fire, tinted blue, that surrounds him. The fists that burn when they make contact- that was Kachan through and through. He could see him in his malicious glare, and in the way he grinned through it making sure to show all of his teeth.

Izuku's head drooped, forcing him to make eye contact with the man on the ground. His eyes rake over his face taking in the blood and bruises.

He couldn't help but think of himself broken and bloody and beaten senseless.

He raises his head up at the gnarled villain before him, only to see something crazy and yet entirely bored in his eyes, a drop of blood running down his cheek. His hands were covered in it, his white tank top drenched in sweat, stains spilling across it.

He smirks, his eyes flickering, "Can I help you, half-pint?"

He looks at him, his eyes burrowed in sorrow and grotesque burns, glancing down at Izuku's shirt, "Hero, huh? I don't like you already." He scoffs, rubbing his beaten and bloody palms against his jeans, plunging his stained hands into his pockets. He stands from where he had been crouched on top of the man and sneers. "You don't have to be a villain to realize that heroes are a steaming pile of crap."

Izuku would flinch if he weren't terrified of looking away from him. Instead all he can do is look at him with wide eyes.

"It's wrong to hurt people," Izuku says in a monotone voice. His mind is a broken record, only able to repeat that core part of himself. He's trying as hard as he can to keep his eyes focused and on the villain in front of him, but they want so badly to flicker down to the man on the ground.

The man snorts, slouching further into himself, "Wish heroes had gotten that memo." He picks his foot up from one side of the body and swings it over the man, walking towards the end of the alley. Izuku stumbles after him in an attempt to stop him.

"Tell me, kid. You believe so much that it's wrong to hurt others?" He stops once Izuku catches up, and he leers from above, "Which do you think is worse? Beating a child, or beating that man?" He hums, allowing it to slowly turn into a chuckle. It becomes a loud rambunctious laugh that rumbles the air.

Izuku feels chills run up his spine.

"Really, I was working for the greater good. No hero would do what I did! They would have let that kid suffer like the swine they are."

He's getting increasingly more manic, sour breath pouring over Izuku's face from where he stands above him. Even when he had stumbled upon him he hadn't looked insane like he does now. He had looked satisfied.

Izuku wasn't sure which was worse.

His neck begins to crink from looking up for so long. "What would you have done, I wonder? Your shirt may say hero, but what are you really?"

He's staring at Izuku like he wants to dissect him and staple him back together. Izuku glances back down to the man's own scars, each mark filled with a life of their own. Izuku has a hard time looking away, but the villain's voice forces his eyes to snap back, a flush covering his face.

"They're disgusting, aren't they?" and for a second, Izuku thinks that he was talking about his scars, "Heroes," he spits out the word venomously. "Promise the world and yet only deliver the garbage.

"Tell me, Hero. What do you think happens when they find out a child is getting beat? Do they stop it? Help them? Save them?" Incredulously, the man's voice cracks as he talks, but he's still grinning, his pupils fluctuating.

Izuku looks back at to the body still lying on the ground bathed in blood. He can't help but be reminded of all the times that he's laid on the grounds, unable to get back up.

Of all the times Kachan covered him in wounds and scars. His mother's and teacher's eyes would flicker over him before dismissing his pain. He can't help but remember.

He thinks about the courage it took for him to ask All Might if he could be a hero, and the utter shattering he had felt in his soul when he had said no.

But the memory of Aizawa made its way into his mind as if it were a virus slowly taking over his consciousness. Of him saying that he was destined to do good, his mother crying as she told him he could be a hero. It takes form in his mind, blocking his view of the villain.

Izuku stops, his eyes flitting over the man in front of him.

Was he really a villain?

The man on the ground gasps a gurgled, wet breath.

"I don't know what a hero would do," Izuku admits. He really doesn't. His first thought is dread when he imagines All Might, but quickly after him comes Eraserhead, Present Mic, and Midnight. What would they do, he wondered?

"But I know what I would do." He drags his eyes up from the body to meet his. "Go." Izuku tells him.

He blinks away the intense look that had covered his face for the duration of the conversation. "What?"

"Go," he repeats. "You saved someone, didn't you? You didn't use your quirk to harm him, so...go." Izuku can't look away from him. He can't help but see the empty look on his face. He won't look back at the man on the ground and neither will he. "He's still breathing," Izuku assures.

A sneer comes over his face as he the sounds of the man gurgling on his own blood echo throughout the alley. He turns sharply on his heel, walking away dripping droplets of blood as he goes.

Izuku calls out to him, "Wait!" The man turns his head towards him, his hips shifting underneath the fabric.

"What's your name?" Izuku asks.

His turquoise eyes meet his, and another bored grin covers his face. His eyes look like their covered in fire, his smile taking on a mad edge. He turns around to face the end of the alley, throwing his answer over his shoulder.

"Call me Dabi, Hero."

As he turns around the corner and disappears, Izuku crouches next to the man, administering as much first aide as possible making sure to offer no words of comfort. After cleaning up the wounds, and making sure he's lying flat on his back, Izuku calls emergency services, leaving a note in his wake.

Make sure the kid gets to a safe home. One that doesn't beat them next time.

Izuku gropes for the man's wallet taking note of his name and the obvious lack of money. He gives a light laugh and tosses it onto his chest as he leaves for home. He got blood on his hands, but he just hopes he hasn't stained anything.

But I guess this answers his question about U.A.-

He'll definitely need more training.


	7. Chapter 7

Izuku creeps back into his room long before the sun rises. He closes the window silently behind him, but he wishes he could slam it down as hard as he could and down onto his fingers.

He wonders if he would hear the crunch and crack or if that was something only found in cartoons and movies.

Would it hurt?

It would be good and maybe even acceptable to test his pain tolerance before a villain fight. How much can he handle? he wonders.

But besides all of his questions, and rationalizations, he knew that it would be satisfying.

What would it be like not to hurt because of Kachan, or All Might, or his mother, or even at the constant bombardment of memories?

To cause his own pain, and to stop when it became too much... To have that kind of control...

That couldn't possibly be a bad thing.

Could it?

He thinks of his mother sleeping in the other room, and what she would think of the loud crack that would resound throughout the house.

Would she hear it as the music it is, or would she look at Izuku in horror?

Would she cry? Would she scream? Would she go back to ignoring him...?

He wishes that he had the follow through.

But maybe he'll always be a stupid useless Deku.

He walk across his room, stripping off his HERO shirt and placing it in the hamper. He takes his mask out of his pocket and tosses it onto the bed right next to where he collapses.

He begs his mind for sleep but he finds his eyes trailing to the window. He can't look away.

A pit had begun burning in his stomach during the last of his patrol; making his head feel hot and light. His limbs, tingly and numb.

His eyes burn, whether that be from staying up all night or fighting tears, he doesn't know.

Both, he supposes.

His eyes try and shut of their own accord, but he knows that when they do tears will spill from his eyes, slip sideways down his cheeks and collect in his unruly hair.

He thinks of the sticky feeling he gets when he cries, and immediately decides that he doesn't want to cry right now. He doesn't want to be sad and wet, eyes unable to see through that painstaking blurriness.

The air presses against his form and keeps him from getting up and taking a shower.

He's covered in grime and probably blood, but more importantly, he's covered in an unmistakable need to just lay here.

He doesn't want to fight against the humidity that holds him down, he doesn't want to gather the strength just to sit up.

There's nothing for him to do anyways, and no one that needs him. Maybe he can just sit, and stew. Maybe for just a little while.

His mind turns easily to the night's events repeating again and again in his mind, feeding into the insomnia that is slowly grasping at his heart and mind with a dark oozing claw.

He let a villain go, but-

Was he really a villain?

Why can't he answer such a simple fucking question?

There must be something wrong with him. Wrong is wrong and right is right and there shouldn't be any grey area. But what does Izuku do now that he's stumbled into it?

Just because a bad person does something good...are they suddenly a good person?

What about Izuku? He's breaking the law so that he can help people, it doesn't matter that he's doing a good thing, or that he doesn't have a quirk to use- He was told no, and he did it anyway.

Isn't that bad?

Doesn't that make him a bad person?

Did he do something bad?

Is there something wrong with him?

Should he stop helping people?

Is he even really helping?

Would they even notice if he was gone?

Does it even matter?

Does he even need to be here? To exist?

He's just a stupid, useless Deku.

Worse, actually, because now he's a villain too.

He's evil, isn't he? He did a bad thing, and people who do bad things are bad people.

He can't help the tears that spill out of his eyes and he feels so disgusting. He's filled with this fire that's growing in his chest and feels remarkably like shame.

His breaths are coming in smaller and smaller gasps until his chest is heaving, and his mind is sent reeling, only capable of repeating the words useless and villain.

He curls into himself and his body wracks with sobs.

Useless.

He's just a useless villain that nobody should ever love, and nobody really has.

Villain.

There's a reason his mother doesn't love him, and why Kachan bullies him.

Even All Might looked at him and knew.

Useless.

Knew that he didn't deserve to live, and knew that he didn't even want to. Knew that he was a bad person, and that he would never be capable of good.

Villain.

He remembers how All Might looked at him, like he wasn't even worth his time. Brushed him off as if he didn't matter, because he doesn't.

Useless.

He made All Might save a life that doesn't matter.

He should have just died there.

Everything would have been easier. And life is just so hard.

Villain.

He'd find something- pills, a knife, a rooftop- if he were just able to get up off of his bed.

But he can't even do that.

He can't breathe.

He can't save people.

He can't stand up to Kachan.

He can't do anything.

Useless.

Villain.

His face is dripping and his hair feels damp at where he grasps at it. He grabs at his chest to calm himself down, but it has no power against his own thoughts.

How am I supposed to be a hero when I can't even help myself?


	8. Chapter 8

Izuku wakes to the sound of ringing.

He rolls over, groaning into his pillow. He pats around his bed, searching for his phone until his fingertips brush against the cool screen. He grasps it in his hands, dragging it up to his face.

He squints at the screen, flinching away from the brightness and screws his eyes shut, blindly swiping at it to answer the call.

"Hello?" he croaks.

Who was even up this early, and why did they have to call him of all people?

There was a pause on the other line, "Did you just wake up?" Aizawa sighs, "You know what, don't answer that. I don't care."

Izuku rolls towards his nightstand. He opens his eyes just enough to see the green lit clock.

12:39

Izuku feels his sigh deep in his soul. He rolls back over into the spot on the bed that his body had left warm. He slams the pillow into his face, his hand still pressing the phone against his ear.

"I called to talk to you about recommending you for the U.A. Hero course." Aizawa clears his throat awkwardly, "We got sidetracked in our last meeting."

Izuku tosses his pillow off of him and plops his feet onto the ground, the jarring doing little to wake him.

"Meeting. Recommendation. Right, okay, I'm following. Continue," he mumbles into the phone, rubbing at his sore eyes and wiping the goop from his lashes.

He pushes at his curls and stands up, falling back onto his bed. He groans lightly as Aizawa keeps talking and he flops backwards onto his pillows.

"Right. To get accepted as a recommendation student, you have to pass both a written exam as well as a physical. You will need to submit a list of your vaccinations for the physical. Once you've cleared these stages you will be allowed to continue on to the physical tests. These are meant to test whether or not you have the potential to become a hero, and will not be based on whether or not you fail these tests. After all, you'll be here to learn."

Aizawa finally takes a breath. "Is that everything?" Izuku blurts.

"No," Izuku hears Aizawa chuckle on the other side of the line, and a sense of dread begins to build in his stomach. "You will then have to submit a paper on your aspirations as a hero. Your file will be reviewed Nedzu, and then it will be reviewed by the teacher's board. If, and only if, you are finally submitted to the hero program at U.A. you will then be allowed to meet your fellow recommendation students. This is all, of course, contingent on your remaining months of junior high, and is subject to change at any time and for any reason."

Izuku mulls Aizawa's words over his tongue as he considers what he said. At the end of his speech, he stills. "Does being quirkless count as a reason?" he whispers.

The silence that can be heard from the other side of the line causes Izuku's heartbeat to kick up. He places his hand against his thumping chest, and squeezes his eyes shut as he waits for a response.

"No," he says.

Izuku can sense the 'but' coming.

"But that may be why you end up not pass the teachers' evaluation. I admit there will be a heavy bias, but I will be there as your advocate on the teacher's board."

"Right. Um...M-Mr. Aizawa?"

Izuku can almost feel him squinting his eyes at him over the phone.

"What?" he asks in a low voice.

"Could I just- have a couple of days? J-just to... think about it?"

Aizawa is silent on the other side of the line. He hears a sigh, "Of course. Think about it. Talk to your mom about it. Get back to me in a couple of days. I'll talk to you then."

He hangs up the phone and glances down at the percentage.

6%

Great.

He tosses his phone back onto the bed behind him. Izuku's eyes burn as he stands back up and walks to his dresser, pulling out shorts. He sifts through his shirts, bypassing any with block-letters. Opting instead for a blank mint green shirt.

He pulls it on over his head as he walks out of his bedroom door and into the hallway.

"Mom!" he calls as he walks, he grabs his wallet from the entryway, "I'm going out!"

"Okay! Be back by dinner!" comes her faint reply as the door slams shut behind him.

He stops at the edge of the steps and breathes in deep, letting the cool air soothe his lungs.

He counts his breathes as he walks down the steps and towards the sidewalk. He wasn't quite sure where he was going, only that he needed to be gone, and that it needed to be now.

He squints up at the sun, glancing at the clear blue sky beyond it. He wished there would be just one cloud. The sky went on for as far as he could see and it felt daunting to think that it continued on indefinitely.

He wished for a cloud to block his view and his thoughts.

Aizawa's words whirl around his head. If he took Aizawa's recommendation, there was a chance that he wouldn't be admitted and he wouldn't have time to enroll in the regular entrance exam. But if he only applied to the regular entrance exam, then he might not get in. Plain and simple.

He might not be good enough regardless of which heroes he had backing him.

He didn't know what he would face at the entrance exam but he knew that U.A was notorious for being difficult to get in.

There was a reason they were the best, and it started with their abysmal acceptance rate.

Lost in his thoughts, he trips on himself. He struggles to maintain his balance, holding his arms out to catch himself. He hits the ground, his dead weight getting pulled against gravity.

He remembers to breathe in deep as he looks at the scratches that line the tips of his palms. He stares at them, fascinated with the blood that dots his hands. He clenches his fist, pressing his knuckles into the cuts enough to make them ache. He settles them against the ground and pushes himself back up.

He stumbles across the road as he slowly rights himself.

He walks for hours on end, walking to nowhere in particular.

Just walking.

Just breathing.

He circles throughout the city letting Aizawa's words swallow his thoughts.

He makes sure to stop by the library, picking up magazines on martial arts and some of the new hero rankings.

All Might is still first. He is a pillar after all, and pillars are known for being immobile.

A pit burrows deeper into Izuku's stomach the longer he thinks about it.

From across the room Izuku can see a large, brightly colored poster posted on the community board. A feeling of dread takes hold in his gut, but he makes his way over making sure to walk as slowly as possible. His eyes roam over the sign, trying to take in every neon word and every spec of glitter.

MEET AND GREET WITH ALL MIGHT

AT KIYASHI WARD SHOPPING MALL!

3-5PM THIS SATURDAY!

COME MEET YOUR HERO!

PLUS ULTRA!

Izuku's heart begins thumping behind his chest, and he has to remind himself to breathe.

Izuku knew that All Might had been in town recently. He had seen all of the news castings, and all the raving fans walking around town in cosplay. He just didn't know how long he planned on staying, or that he was hosting a meet and greet. Let alone that it was today.

Izuku couldn't help but be filled with a deep sadness and anxiety when he thought of All Might, but underneath all of that was an inkling of steel.

He was training every night to better himself. He was Eraserhead's student. He was going to attend U.A.

He just had to figure out how he was going to get in.

A sense of confidence overtakes Izuku as he straightens his back, puffs out his chest, and inhales.

His feet take him outside the library and across the roads that lead to the mall.

He couldn't let All Might bring him down. He couldn't let his words be a detriment to him. It was better to face his fear as early as possible before it took on a life of its own within his mind.

Already, the thoughts of All Might brought on a sense of dread that seeped into his core. The sooner Izuku rid himself of this feeling, the better.

He could show All Might that he was wrong -that quirkless kids could become heroes and that he would be the first one to do it.

He could just imagine how glorious it would feel if he were to show up out of nowhere. He would be the quirkless kid that All Might had dismissed, and yet he was so much stronger. So much better than he ever thought he could be. What would it be like to prove to the number one hero that he had been wrong? What would it feel like to go against discrimination so ingrained in society as to lead the epitome of goodness into its mists?

Izuku's upper arms clench to keep them from shaking.

What would it feel like to finally show him? After all these months?

Would it be as satisfying as Izuku thought it would be?

I suppose that there's only one way to find out.

Izuku makes his way towards the outlet, but his legs feel as if they're wading through water. His knees quake beneath him and he feels as if he might collapse at any moment.

He takes a deep breath and continues on; it was almost 5, he had to get there quick.

The closer he got, the more his stomach seemed to drift away from him. He sped up, his gait becoming wobbly as his body and mind fought against each other. As he entered the mall he glanced at the giant clock that dominates the center.

16:58

Izuku breaks out in a sprint as he runs past the shops looking for All Might. Department stores flash by him as he tries to avoid the crowds of people. Someone's shoulder clips him and he stumbles. He shoulders fall diagonal before he's able to correct himself and continue running.

He runs to the center of the mall, glancing around the crowds of people and big piles of balloons for a familiar pair of broad shoulders.

From across the room, Izuku sees him gently placing a little girl on the ground. He pats her head between her cat ears before turning away. He ducks between the crowds, occasionally stopping to give an autograph or talk to a group.

Izuku dodges through the throng of people. Just as Izuku finds his way to the other end of the mall, All Might swerves out of sight into a hall leading outside the mall.

The hall quickly becomes deserted, and before All Might is able to turn another corner, Izuku calls out to him, "M-m-my name is Midoriya Izuku!" His voice is too loud between them, and he can feel a flush creeping up his neck

All Might looks back over his broad shoulders. Izuku thinks he sees a dot of blood forming around All Might's mouth.

"All Migh-?"

He quickly turns away hiding his face. "I'm sorry, my boy. But I really must get going. It was nice meeting you!"

Izuku lunges forward, his hands clambering against the air, "Wait!"

All Might speed walks away from him, but Izuku runs towards him. "Please!" he calls, "You don't understand!"

Izuku jogs toward his side as All Might continues to speed away.

"Wait!"

All Might stops to quickly scribble something on a piece of paper. "Here you go, young Midoriya. I'm sorry I don't have time to talk." He thrusts it at Izuku before taking off in the opposite direction.

Izuku looks down at the paper in his hands.

"Wh-"

It was All Might's autograph with a little drawing of himself worked in. Izuku looks at the sheet, bewildered. "He probably doesn't even remember me." He sighs and rubs at his forehead with his hand, attempting to wipe away his memories.

He stands still, All Might continuing to walk further away. Izuku's head points towards his feet. He clenches his fists and calls out to him, "The slime villain!" he yells.

All Might comes to a stop, yards behind him. He keeps his back turned away from him and hangs his head, "What about it, young Midoriya?"

He coughs into his hand. It sounds wet.

Izuku turns around to face him. Thin streams of smoke appear to be trailing off of his body, but Izuku figures it must be his sore eyes that are mistaken.

"You rememb-"

The smoke builds by the second before it completely envelopes both All Might and Izuku.

All Might turns to look at him, his thin shoulders turning underneath his much too large suit. His brow covers his eyes and yet he looks so sad. "Young man," he says, "The duty of a hero is to never forget the lives I am unable to save. So how could I forget the ones I can?"

Izuku stares at the tall, thin man before him. He thinks of all the times All Might's words had run through his mind. He thinks of the toll they had, and the way that even now in the face of this new All Might he continues to hold his words close to his heart.

Izuku giggles towards his feet. "You are literally the skeleton in my closet," he whispers. Izuku shakes his head and mumbles underneath his breath, "You didn't save me."

Not really.

"Pardon?" All Might asks.

Izuku shakes his head harder, rattling his brain."Y-you didn't save me," he says louder.

"A-As a kid, All Might…. You were my w-whole world." Izuku takes in a jumbled breath and continues, "Y-you were everything I ever wanted to be. A hero." Izuku looks up from the ground and halts his fidgeting. "But then I grew up and finally realized that I couldn't be a hero. And that was because you told me so." Izuku's eyes are burning, but he clenches his fist to keep from crying. "And so I had to build a whole new world and it's shaky and j-jumbled.

"But I wasn't able to change who I am . I can't change the fact that I'm quirkless, and I can't change my dream to help people." Izuku's nails bite into his scratched palms. "I-I idolized you, I compared myself to you, I wanted to be you. And I can't." His voice cracks, "I never can be. And it's taken me a long time to accept that, but as long as I can help people, that's okay. I don't need the whole world on my shoulders. Not like you."

Izuku glances over All Might's face, looking for any sense of regret. "I don't know what you want me to say, my boy. Look at me." He gestures at his gaunt frame, "You can't be a hero without a quirk." He lifts his shirt, just enough for Izuku to get a glance at his broken and cracked side, "Even with a quirk, it's life threatening."

He sighs, pulling his shirt back down. "I don't know what you want me to say," he repeats. His voice is so quiet compared to his usual booming presence. "I don't regret what I said."

Izuku pulls his glance away from All Might's frame, and focuses back on his face. Izuku can't tell if he feels pity for this man, or just pure sadness.

"I don't think there's anything left to say," Izuku whispers. "I repeat, you didn't save me. You can't even believe in me."

Izuku's eyes burn as he takes one more glance before turning around and walking away from him. "I won't tell anyone," he calls over his shoulder.

Izuku has long since missed dinner, but he can't find it within himself to care. He finds himself back at his park, the air slowly chilling around him. He walks over to the playground, his legs stilts beneath him.

He scrunches his eyes shut to try and abate the tears. He takes a deep breath but it catches in the middle. He clenches his fists at his side, and opens his mouth to let the breath out. His eyes open and he focuses them on the tree in front of him. All Might's words swirl in his mind.

He thinks about how something so life changing, so earth shattering, has had absolutely no effect on the number one hero. He thinks of Aizawa's words and they fill him with a sense of hate.

He lied to him, he can't ever be a hero. All Might is right. Kachan is right. Everyone in his entire life has been right.

He can't do this.

Izuku's breath begins to quicken and his lungs feel as if they're collapsing.

With a shout, Izuku throws himself at the tree with his fists raised. He fist slams against the bark and it tears into his skin. The lacerations burn against his knuckles, bringing feeling to his frozen hands.

Izuku widens his stance, and raises his elbow near his face. His breath bursts from him as he flings his fists at the tree over and over again. His torso feels as if it were burning up. Sweat is pouring from his face, dotting his upper lip. He hurls his shirt away from him, leaving it to get dirty on the ground.

His wrists are aching and his knuckles are screaming. A tear escapes from his eye and mingles with his sweat.

I'm so useless.

His punches look as if he is constantly falling. He sends his fist flying, hunching his shoulders forward and letting gravity do the rest. He looks wild, sweating and panting while storming at a tree in the middle of the night.

His fists are becoming increasingly bloodied. His hands slick with red, the tree becoming stained with his frustration. He hears a 'pop' come from his hand, but he doesn't let that stop him. He hesitates for a moment to catch his breath before picking up his fists once more.

Izuku isn't sure how much time has passed, but after hundreds of thwacks against the tree he vaguely hears Aizawa's voice from beyond him. Sweat drips down his curls to a point at his chin. His body feels too hot, but his limbs feel chilled. His fists were two spots of fire on his body.

"Kid," Aizawa's call comes from a place very far away. "Your mom..." Izuku feels as if he were underwater and the sounds around him were getting swallowed. He ignores him in favor of his brawl with the tree.

He slams his fist against the blood-stained tree in front of him.

"Kid!" His voice is closer than before, but still so hard to hear. Izuku's world tilts as he gets pulled off of his feet.

Aizawa's eyes glower red from above him, even though they both know it has no effect on him. His brows are furrowed and his eyes are submerged in fury. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" His voice is harsh and it grates against Izuku's ears.

Izuku flinches away from him, and claws at Aizawa's capture weapon. "Get off of me!" He pants. Too Hot. Everything is too hot. Too close. "Get off, get off, get off!" It's loud enough to be a roar if his voice hadn't been so scratchy.

Aizawa takes a step back, a bewildered expression on his face. He releases Izuku from his capture weapon.

Izuku falls onto his back. His chest heaves against the ground and his ribs press uncomfortably against his skin.

"Kid..." Aizawa says gently, almost like he was hesitant.

Izuku screws his eyes shut. His legs get tangled while trying to flop onto his stomach. He pushes his arms against the ground in order to hoist up his body, his knuckles aching from beneath him. He retches, his body convulsing. He can't help the sob that escapes him, or the ones that suddenly follow.

His body folds in on itself and he clutches his stomach. His face is a mix of sweat, tears, snot, and the dots of vomit that line his lips. He stomach cramps against itself, forcing him to stay on the ground.

Aizawa slowly kneels over him as if not to scare him. He pushes Izuku's curls out of his face. "Shhhhh," he soothes. "Everything is okay." He uses his capture weapon to wipe at Izuku's face. "Everything is going to be fine." He grabs Izuku's shirt from the ground and slides it over his shoulders. He pulls Izuku's face against his chest, and collects him in his arms. "It's okay," he whispers.


	9. Chapter 9

Shouta balances Izuku's unconscious form on his hip as the keys jumble in in his hand. He withholds from cursing as he finally slides the correct key into the lock and twists the knob. He kicks at the bottom of the door to get it to open.

He slams the door behind him. Hizashi and Nemuri glance up from the couch, their blasting Western movie swallowing any hopes of a conversation. They pause for a moment, hesitant to cast away their blankets. Their eyes slide down Shouta and they land on the lump of a child that had blended in with the hero's clothes.

Hizashi throws his blanket off of him and scrambles for the remote, turning down its blasting volume. While Nemuri reaches for the lamp on the side table. There's a gentle click before light floods the room.

Shouta steps into the room, bypassing his two best friends huddled in cowboy hats. He stops to the side of the couch and places Izuku on the armchair.

"'Zashi," Shouta whispers from his crouch in front of Izuku.

Hizashi makes a gentle humming sound in response.

"Will you make him some tea for when he wakes up?"

Tiptoeing across the room, he gets off of the couch and heads silently for the kitchen.

"Chamomile," Shouta calls out quietly.

Brushing Izuku curls out of his face, he directs his head towards Nemuri, "Could you grab him a change of clothes from my room?"

"Yeah," she murmurs. She glances briefly at Izuku's hands before exiting through the hall.

Shouta looks back down to Izuku. He looks at the deep bags under his eyes that seem to swallow his face. Izuku looks pale and clammy, his curls drenched in sweat.

"Kid," Shouta calls softly. He grabs his upper arm gently to shake it. "Kid. Wake up."

Izuku groans, twisting his face into the side of the armchair.

"You're drooling." Shouta states.

"Wha-!" Izuku lazily drags his wrist across his mouth. He slowly blinks at Shouta with squinted green eyes. His words crash into each other in his exhaustion, "No, I'm not," he mumbles.

Shouta hums, dragging his hand over his face. "I suppose not," is all he says before Hizashi comes tiptoeing back into the room.

He had replaced his cowboy hat for a more conservative ponytail tied at the nape of his neck.

"Hey, little listener," he whispers once he's in front of him.

He places a mug in Izuku's hands. Hizashi glances down discreetly at the blood lining his fists but chooses to say nothing, opting instead to dart a worried glance at Shouta.

Shouta catches his eye, shaking his head ever so little.

Izuku hisses in pain as his hands wrap around the Present Mic mug. He chooses to ignore his aching knuckles in favor of a sip of tea.

Shouta would squirt him with a water bottle if he had one on hand.

There's a bang in the back room that makes everyone jump.

Shouta lets out a breath, "Relax, it's just Nemuri."

"Do you all live together?" Izuku asks. His swollen eyes become wide, and they look less haunted then they had a minute ago.

Hizashi gives a hollow laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "Oh, yeah," he says, "You should see how much hair this guy gets in the shower drain." Hizashi thrusts his thumb at Shotua.

He narrows his eyes in response, "You're one to talk."

Izuku would think he was pouting, if that thought weren't absolutely obscene.

Talking another sip of tea, Izuku gulps it down. His eyes settle back down into their bags, "Aizawa-sensei what am I doing here?"

He makes brief eye contact with Hizashi before pulling his eyes back to the kid.

"We're having a... sleepover," the words look oddly formed in his mouth.

Izuku blinks, confused, "A what?"

Shouta turns to look at Hizashi as if asking him if he had pronounced the word correctly.

Hizashi steps in, "I think what Shouta means to say is that you will be spending the night here, and you will sit and drink tea, watch movies, gossip, and eat pizza with us," While listing the activities, he starts counting on his fingers.

"U-uum. Y-Yamada-san?" Izuku cringes, "I'm on a pretty... strict...diet. So I don't know if I should be eating p-pizza."

"Then make today a cheat day!" Hizashi calls a little too loudly, pumping his fist into the air. "Those are my favorite days anyways!"

Izuku shuffles in his seat looking uncomfortable.

"Kid," Shouta sighs, "It's okay to try your best and push yourself. But every good hero needs to know when to take a break."

He wishes it didn't sound so much like a lecture.

Still looking uncomfortable, Izuku nods and Hizashi pumps his fist into the air.

"Okay," There's a clunk when Shouta takes Izuku's tea and places it on the table. "Now go take a shower. Nemuri should have put some clothes in the bathroom for you."

Izuku and Shouta glance down at his hands. Izuku's sniffles fill Shouta's ears and a deep sense of sadness and guilt builds in Shouta's chest.

Shouta gently takes Izuku's hands in his, and is shocked by the look of disappointment that fills Izuku's eyes. Shouta glances back down to his hands, where he had wrapped them around Izuku's. "Take a shower," he whispers. "When you're done, I'll help clean your hands."

Tears fill Izuku's eyes. It doesn't seem like the kid wants to be separated from him, but he couldn't let him become too dependent on him.

Besides, someone had to call his mother.

Izuku gets up from his seat, looking confused until Hizashi points him in the direction of the bathroom.

Hizashi's light-hearted grin falls the moment Izuku is out of sight.

Shouta can't look away from the chair that Izuku had just filled. He can't help but think about what would make Izuku react like that, and what would have happened if he hadn't shown up.

He felt lucky that Inko-san had called him, frantic about where her child might have gone. And yet he can't help the choking feeling that sits beside his lungs.

The sound of Hizashi getting up and leaving the room floats to Shouta's ears but he chooses to ignore it. He hears a quiet shuffle in the kitchen. The shower turns on.

Shouta would cry if his eyes weren't so dry. His body goes through a pale imitation, folding into itself. His forehead falls onto his arms perched on the armchair. Thoughts bombard his mind, and yet he feels more blank than ever.

Hizashi's footsteps patter against the floor.

He slowly crouches next to him as if not to scare him. He tucks a strand of hair behind Shouta's ear. "Shouta," he calls gently.

Shouta twists his body to look at him.

Typically, Shouta holds an indifferent expression, and talks in low monotone sentences. But now, the dead look in his eyes is enough to send shivers down his best friend's spine.

Hizashi reaches out, and curls his hand around one of Shouta's. He pulls out a rag and begins wiping at his knuckles.

Shouta's head tips down at his hands, displaying a subdued curiosity.

"Your hands had blood on them," Hizashi whispers. He switches hands and begins to wipe the other one. When he's done, Hizashi takes both of his hands in his and guides Shouta's arms around him so that they wrap around his torso.

He gathers Shouta in his arms, and holds his head beneath his chin.

Shouta doesn't cry, and he doesn't sob.

There's no wet patch on Hizashi's t-shirt once Shouta moves away, and he doesn't utter a sound.

But he clutches at Hizashi as if he were a lifeline. His hands dig into Hizashi's back and the pain keeps Hizashi's thoughts from wandering.

"Why?" Shouta chokes out.

Hizashi can feel the crack in his heart widen. His glasses are beginning to fog up with the tears that are gathering in his eyes. He clenches his them shut, and pulls Shouta even closer.

"I don't know."

Shouta pulls back slowly, "I have to call his mother." He rubs at his dry eyes, as if to wipe away tears.

Nemuri walks in just then wearing one of Shouta's hoodies, her hair still tucked into her cowboy hat. She looks at the heap of them on the ground and walks over to them. Her face slides into a picture of grief.

The floor creaks when she crouches beside them.

She intertwines their fingers together, taking one hand from each of them.

She can't help but think about her years as a hero when she looks at the two of them. This wasn't the first time that one of them had collapsed onto their floor in sorrow. These gatherings would always happen late at night, and it was always after a death had pushed their grief too far.

She tucks her chin against her chest, letting the hat cover her face. She thinks about all the lives she had failed to save and gives herself a second to mourn.

Her lungs fall against themselves, and her heavy breathing fills the air.

She remembers when they were all just kids at U.A., all the pranks they had pulled and the jokes that had been told.

Her mind runs over all the things they've seen since then and all the lives they've lost. The funerals they've attended. The families that grieved. Their shouts and tears as victims lost their lives. The tears she's given in remembrance and in secret. The hugs and late night gatherings so similar to now.

They run through her mind on repeat, the memories having a feast on her thoughts.

Shouta and Hizashi feel Nemuri clench their hands tighter.

"We haven't lost this one," she says. A gentle reminder. Her words pierce the thick air that had been building around them.

"And we're not going to," Shouta responds.

She glances up.

Shouta feels flames surround him as she stares at them. Her eyes are fire, and they hurt to look at. And yet Hizashi and Shouta can't help but be pulled in. They see every death and hurt in her eyes all tucked in and covered by an intense sense of hope and determination.

"No. We won't," Hizashi's voice cracks.

My, how far they've come since they were kids.

Shouta releases their hands, and clambers to his feet. His sigh hits their ears just as he leaves to change out of his hero costume.

"Give me your phone," Hizashi calls out, "I'll call Midoriya-san for you."

Shouta gives him a once over before tossing his phone to him from across the living room. It makes a solid '_ whack _' when it hits Hizashi's palm.

Shouta turns around and makes his way towards his room as Hizashi dials the phone and puts it on speaker for Nemuri to hear.

"Aizawa-san?!" comes Inko's voice from the phone.

Shouta can just hear her asking, "Did you find him?!" before he closes his bedroom door behind him. He shuts his eyes to the sound of his door clicking. His sigh fills the corners of the room.

He opens his eyes to the mess that Nemuri had left. Piles of clothes line his floor, his drawers are still open, and things had been dragged out from underneath his bed.

No wonder she had taken so long to find Izuku a change of clothes.

Shouta quickly changes into a pair of sweats he finds on the floor. He throws on a dark blue t-shirt and begins to clean his room.

Normally he would grumble about Nemuri trashing his room as he cleaned, but he couldn't find it in himself to do so. He felt far too grateful for her at the moment to curse her existence. But how he wished he could.

Izuku pulls the plug in the bathtub and he becomes entranced with how the water swirls down the drain. He pulls his knees against his chest and waits until all the water has left the tub and the water cools on his skin.

He pulls himself out of the tub and grabs a towel. He can hear mutterings through the door, but he's not quite ready to leave the quiet of the bathroom yet.

The air is stuffy from the heat, and it wraps around him in a hug. He ties the towel around his waist and glances at the mirror.

If he didn't look at his hands, he could almost say that he looked normal.

The heat from the bath had brought back his natural flush, and he didn't think his eye bags were too terrible. But there was one truth he couldn't avoid.

He squinted as his reflection.

He didn't look happy.

The light had left his eyes and his skin looked dull.

Izuku tried to smile at his reflection, but it looked more like a grimace. He let out the breath he had been holding and it fogged up the mirror.

He glanced down at his hands. The blood had washed off for the most part, but it had hurt to put them in the water, and he wouldn't use soap to clean them.

Cuts lined his knuckles, deeper than a scratch but not deep enough to warrant stitches, and he was sure that some would scar. His ring finger looked crooked, his nails were chipped, and scratches still lined his palms from when he fell earlier.

The feeling of disappointment sat heavy on his shoulders making him slouch. Cotton seemed to be stuffed down his throat and it refused to let him cry.

Izuku had always faced harsh words.

Nothing had changed since he turned 4. Words would swallow him whole when he let them, but this time he did this to himself.

All Might's words had rung through his head, driving him to look for an outlet. His feet took him towards the park, his fists had lashed out towards a tree.

He couldn't help but be disappointed with himself.

He should have ignored him.

He should have let All Might's words wash over him.

He shouldn't have gone to see him.

He was so stupid. He wanted to show All Might? Show him what?! That he's just as pathetic as ever? That he can't handle something he's heard his entire life?

It was just….He was just so _sad _.

He didn't have the words to describe it. It felt as if it would swallow him whole, and yet when he realizes he was still here he felt even worse.

He's just tired of thinking. He wanted to _do _. Only to realize that wasn't right either. He just can't get it right.

He knows he's about to make a bad decision when voices that aren't his fill his head. Kachan, All Might, mom, Nedzu. Anyone will do, as long as they're willing to trod on him.

They swirl around him, letting his thoughts storm around him.

He was so disappointed in himself.

He should have known that it wasn't worth fighting over. They would never see him as he is. They want to believe that quirkless people are worthless, and he had just proven them correct.

It was so easy to believe the words they had told him.

And that's what made him disappointed.

Because he was beginning to believe them.

He sighs, reaching for the clothes that Kayama-san had left for him. Only to unfurl it and let out his first laugh of the day.

He walks out of the bathroom door at the same time Aizawa closes a door behind him.

Glancing at Izuku's clothes, Aizawa lets out a huff of a laugh. He pats the top of his head as he passes him, placing his hands in between the cat ears of his onesie. "Come on," he calls, "Let's clean your hands."

Izuku trails him back into the living room.

Midnight squeals when she sees him. "I knew it would be cute!" she shouts.

Present Mic throws his head back laughing.

Izuku can feel a flush creeping up his neck. Aizawa leaves to grab the first aid kit. Izuku sits back onto the armchair and Aizawa comes back with a large box.

He pulls a chair up to him instead of crouching this time.

He holds out his hand for Izuku's.

While Izuku's distracted with the alcohol being poured onto his cuts, Aizawa gives a look to his two best friends. They make a quick exit through the front door, calling out, "We're gonna go pick up pizza!"

Hizashi grabs his cowboy hat on the way out.

Silence fills the air between Izuku and Aizawa. They both seem to be hypnotised with Aizawa cleaning his wounds.

Aizawa lets the silence swallow the air, covering Izuku's hands in bandages. He hears Izuku gulp and he glances up, but Izuku won't look at him.

"I'm sorry," he whispers at his fists.

Izuku can feel Aizawa's hesitation in approaching the subject.

He places Izuku's hand back on his knee, starting on the other one as he mulls over his words.

"Why?" he finally asks.

"Why?" Izuku glances up.

Aizawa repeats himself, opting to keep his voice soft like Izuku's, "Why are you sorry?" Their eyes meet as Aizawa continues his first aide.

"I should have known they would never change their minds." He doesn't know why, but Izuku is hesitant to bring up All Might. He meant it when he said he would keep his secret.

"People are unpredictable, and sometimes they surprise you. It's okay to hope sometimes. Is that why you're sorry?" he asks.

Izuku turns his head back to his lap. "No," he whispers. He pulls his hand back into his lap once Aizawa is finished.

"I'm sorry I'm quirkless.

"I'm sorry I'm not good enough.

"I'm sorry I'm in pain.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell anyone."

His hands are shaking, and he doesn't want to look at Aizawa.

"I'm sorry I'm being bullied."

A tear slides down Izuku cheek.

"I'm sorry I'm different. I'm sorry I didn't know better. I'm sorry I thought you would hate me if I told you."

Aizawa's chest hurts when he looks at the small child before him, on the verge of sobbing.

There were so many things wrong with what he was saying. So many flawed thoughts that had led him to where he was and Aizawa wanted to clear them all away.

But Aizawa could only find it in himself to say, "I forgive you." He tips Izuku's head up from where he had been slouching into his seat. "But _never _apologize for needing help." He pulls Izuku into his arms. "You have no idea how scared I was," he whispers into Izuku's curls. "I'd much rather have you calling me in the middle of class, then me having to find out-" Aizawa's throat chokes him before he can get out the last of his sentence.

Aizawa hugs him closer.

"Izuku," he says. Izuku briefly freezes in Aizawa's arms before relaxing again. "When someone...says something about you being quirkless," Izuku pulls out of his arms to look at him. "When someone says something, it's okay to be angry. You don't deserve..._ this _." He shakes his head, "It's not your fault."

He places his hands on Izuku's shoulders, "It's okay not to be okay," he says. "It's okay to have dreams, and to believe in yourself. It's okay to fall down." His voice gets more serious and he tightens his hands around Izuku's shoulders, "As long as you get back up."

Tears are spilling down Izuku's cheeks again as he takes in Aizawa's words.

"I'm sorry," he says in a wet whisper.

Aizawa looks at him, and the pain in his chest becomes lighter. "I know," he says. "I know. So stop apologizing." He pulls the kid back into his arms. "There's nothing to apologize for."


	10. Chapter 10

Izuku and Aizawa sit together in the middle of the couch, comfortably close. Izuku rests his head against Aizawa's chest and he can hear a slow thumping in his ear. His heartbeat reverberates through Izuku's head and it draws Izuku's eyes to a lull. Aizawa's clothes give off the scent of laundry detergent, but the man himself smells like sweat and dirt.

A heavily booted foot slams into the door causing it to burst forward. Izuku jumps, his head slamming into Aizawa's chin. Izuku cringes at himself and Aizawa glares at the offender. A bright yellow pant leg dangles from where it meets the boot. The foot hangs in the doorway until Hizashi starts jumping forward on one foot like a showgirl, holding up pizza boxes in both hands. He shimmies his shoulders and calls out, "IT'S NOT DELIVERY, IT'S DIGIORN-"

The 'O' suddenly gets cut off and Izuku can see the glow of Aizawa's eyes in the corner of his view. Aizawa pulls Izuku's head closer to him, covering his ears with his hands. "Hizashi," Aizawa growls, "Quiet."

Midnight laughs from behind Mic, "Yeah, Hizashi," she calls as she jostles her elbow into his side, "He was having a quiet moment with his son."

"We have neighbors," Aizawa lectures, turning his head towards Nemuri.

A sly look comes across Nemuri's face, "Guess what else we have."

Hizashi wiggles his eyebrows over her shoulder.

Aizawa pushes his hands harder against Izuku's ears. "What now?" he asks, his voice low.

Nemuri grins as she unfurls the cloth that had been bunched in her hands.

"MATCHING CAT ONESIES!" Hizashi and Nemuri cry out together.

Aizawa sighs as Izuku tries to hide his excitement. The couch bounces every so slightly from his movements. Izuku glances towards Aizawa, his hands falling away from his ears. His big forest green eyes are taking up most of his face and he tries his best to look contained, but his fidgeting hands give him away.

Aizawa tries his best to avoid eye contact with the green gremlin, before glancing out of the corner of his eye, knowing it was his doom. Aizawa's head shakes involuntarily as he picks himself off of the couch. He snatches the onesie from Nemuri's hands and marches to his bedroom, Izuku's giggles following him from the room.

He sighs, _the things I do for my kids_.

He places his legs into the holes and he can't help but be filled with a sense of contentment.

He would get that kid into U.A. and he would keep an eye on him. Izuku would be alright as long as they took the right steps, and Shouta would be there to make sure they did.

Besides, these really were comfortable pajamas. They were baggy like his normal clothes, but they were far softer.

When he leaves his bedroom, he sees Nemuri sneaking a Cookie Cat to Izuku, and he's filled with a sense of betrayal.

He walks into the room, trying his best to look as if he didn't want his own ice cream. He sits back down next to Izuku, and this blessed child hands him half without saying anything.

Shouta could cry.

But that would freak out the problem child, so he settles for ruffling his curls underneath his hood. Hizashi heads for the kitchen, the pizza boxes tucked underneath his arms.

Nemuri drags Izuku to sit on the floor so that he's sitting against the back of her knees. Aizawa lets out a noise, dragging Nemuri's attention to him.

"Calm down, Papa Bear. He's fine. He asked me to braid his hair while you were changing."

Hizashi pops his head into the room from the kitchen doorway. "Speaking of which, what color do you want, little listener?"

Aizawa raises his eyebrow at Izuku and Izuku blushes, "Would you be able to do Eraserhead themed nails?"

Hizashi grins at him from across the room, "I just had the best idea that will ever exist," he declares before making his way towards his room.

"Doubtful," Aizawa calls, "But if we're doing self love, then I have some face masks in my room." Aizawa gets up off of the couch and leaves Izuku with Nemuri as she starts braiding his curls.

Distinct sounds of digging, and crashing can be heard from Hizashi's room over the next few minutes as the pizza cooks.

The oven beeps causing Hizashi to scramble through the living room, running on his tiptoes, his arms full of bottles and filers, screaming, "My pizza!"

"Ours," Nemuri corrects.

"The neighbors!" Aizawa shouts from his bedroom.

"Screw the neighbors!" Nemuri shouts, "This is pizza we're talking about!"

Izuku can't help the bubble of warmth the builds in his chest and tumbles out in a giggle. He wishes he could have this one day.

Aizawa makes his way out of his room grumbling, carrying a couple of packets in his hands. He plops in front of Izuku on the ground, and rips open one of the packets.

"Close your eyes, kid."

He can feel something cool slide across his face as it gets coated in something thick. It's soothing against his sore eyes, and it brings him a sense of calm as he feels Nemuri pulling at his hair.

The night passes far too quickly. Filled with hugs and love, Izuku felt embarrassed under the attention, but he wouldn't trade it for the world. It's not that he felt great. Not even that he felt _good_. But he felt better.

He felt okay.

He could only hope that when he looked in the mirror, he would see it reflected there.

The night passes far too quickly, eating pizza and dancing to Hizashi's playlists. At one point, Nemuri had pulled out Aizawa's baby pictures while he was in the bathroom.

A grin spreads across his face, so wide that it cracks through the mask making him look deranged. A picture of Aizawa as a toddler was next to him when he first started U.A. The baby was decked out in old heroes' memorabilia. The teen seemed like a different person from the fanboy that he used to be, but his choice of U.A. said otherwise.

Aizawa came out of the bathroom, and he chased Nemuri around the house as Hizashi took out Izuku's braids. He gave Izuku a rag to wash the mask from his face. When he's done, he places the damp rag in his lap, letting his head lull as Hizashi pulls at his hair. He can't help but stare at his checkered nails. He feels the sudden urge to pick at his bright red ring finger, but he tries his best to squelch that need.

Big fat tears plop on the back of his bandaged hands. Hizashi used acrylic nails because his nails we so broken, but now he can't help but look at his hands. The nails were the only thing pretty about him. He didn't deserve them. His insides were far too ugly for them. He was afraid that people would look at him and realize that he wasn't as nice as these nails. He wasn't as heroic as Eraserhead.

But he couldn't help the sense of contentment that he had felt all night being surrounded by these people. He wanted to be good. He wanted to deserve these nails.

Aizawa stops, when he catches his eye. He steps off of the couch that he had been trying to vault over in order to catch Nemuri. His face covered in a bright pink face mask and looking as if he were a deer caught in headlights.

Izuku looks up at him, tears dripping to a point at his chin. And he grins the biggest smile he had felt in days. A sense of determination swelled under his chest.

He had missed this feeling.

A sliver of sunlight floats in through the crack in the curtain, lighting the mustache that had been drawn in sharpie on Nemuri's face. She had been the first to fall asleep, Hizashi's constant energy and Aizawa's insomnia being her downfall.

Izuku glances at the clock, seeing that he should be home by now. School would start soon, and he was sure that his mother would be worried despite the phone call.

When walking towards the door, he accidentally stubs his toe on Hizashi's back, but he doesn't stir.

Aizawa hears a creak from the kitchen where he had been making coffee for the day. They would need it.

He leans out of the kitchen's entrance way and sees Izuku slowly heading to the door.

Aizawa heads towards him, needing to look at him one more time to make sure he's okay. Izuku cracks open the door, and makes his way outside.

"Kid." Aizawa calls gently in the doorway. Izuku turns towards his voice, his crimped looking hair flying into his eyes. Aizawa looks at him and gives him a once over. He sighs before continuing. "Sometimes, people can be wrong." His voice softens, "Try to remember that."

His voice cracks, "I'll try."

Touya steps away from his warehouse, one last creak giving way to his ears. His hand feels as if it's burning where he holds the news article, but he knows it's not his quirk. He clenches his fist against the paper clutched in his hand and he tries his best to clear all of his thoughts away.

He walks faster and faster, breaking into a run as he makes his way down different allies. He was looking for something. For someone, but he knew he wouldn't find them. He tried to let that need swallow his thoughts, but the picture of Shouto standing next to Endeavour can't help but be melded into the back of his eyes. He tries to wash it away with looking for someone as if they were soap. He knew that they could help him. Help Shouto, but the image won't disappear from behind his eyes.

His eyes were what drove Touya crazy. It wasn't his burn, or the stiff posture that he maintained around Enji, but the absolute desert of emotion that he could see within Shouto's eyes. There was nothing that he could read from him. His face was a blank slate and his eyes were dead, but that told Touya more than what he needed to know.

More than he wanted to know.

The title was something about attending UA, but Touya had always known that would happen. And, he supposes, that Shouto's eyes was something that he knew was coming too. He should never have expected anything else.

He knew what it was like to be Enji's protegee. He _knew _that Shouto wouldn't be as lucky as him. Shouto didn't have the comfort of being a failure. His quirk was far too perfect, and Endeavor far too cruel.

His hands ignite in a blue flame, and he has to focus to make sure that it doesn't consume him. The focus lends him some clarity, but not nearly enough. The paper crumples into ashes in his hand, the corners curling black. The flames lick between his fingers and bring feeling to his burning cold knuckles.

He knew what he needed. He just didn't know how to get it. It felt as if there were a word on the tip of his tongue, and his thoughts wouldn't take that final plunge.

Touya was tired of being a coward.

He was tired of running away from Endeavor.

He had so much power over Touya. He still went to bed only to wake up screaming. Phantom pains still burned his limbs, and he would wince far more than he could smile.

He couldn't imagine what it must be like for Shouto.

And he really didn't want to.

And yet… that image won't move away from his mind. Touya was angry. He had always been. He had been filled with a fire that had been with him since he first got his quirk.

But Shouto... was _blank_. He wasn't anything. He couldn't afford to be. The stench of disassociation covered him in a thick cloud, but Touya could see through it.

Touya was tired of being a coward.

And so he would gather the courage to do something to help his little brother.

He just had to find him! He couldn't imagine where he could be, but he had to look as if he couldn't breathe otherwise.

He had to find him.

The hero killer.

Stain.

He could fix everything.

He could have his family back. He would be safe. Shouto would be safe. He would get his mother back, even if it meant he never had to use his quirk again.

If only Endeavor were dead.

He knew Stain would do it. He killed people who weren't real heroes, and who was less worthy than Endeavour himself.

He just needed to find him, _goddamnit_.

Touya's foot catches on a pebble. He stumbles forward, trying his best to catch himself on air. A puddle of thick tar sits on the pavement in a perfect circle. The smell of laundry sheets and whiskey floats to Touya's nostrils. It coats the ground in a black hole and Touya can't see beneath it. It stretches across the back of the alley, and when Touya's hands first land in it, it gives underneath his palms. His arms fall into the ground, far more than they should have been able. His shoulder gets swallowed by the tar, and yet it feels like air. A sense of confusion takes over him as the alley around him falls away in the blink of an eye.

And all Touya can think is, "Shit," as his back hits the floor and his eyes land on a montage of hands.


	11. Chapter 11

The sun shines underneath Touya's eyes, a pale orange coating his lids. Yellow and black flowers dance above him as he rolls over with a stunted groan. His eyes fall into darkness as he smashes his face into his pillow none too gently.

His muscles ache against his clothes, lines of fire streaming down his arms and legs, a small campfire burning the small of his back. His muscles feel warm and relaxed in his small cocoon of blankets, and yet he still can't help but hope that he'll be constipated for the day just so he won't have to squat for the toilet.

He grasps at his sheets, attempting to pull himself up without using his core. A hot sheet of metal lays underneath his abdomen making him move in small jolts at a time as if to stop his skin from pressing against the molten metal. He shoulders slouch forward, cocooning his heart between blades. He raises his head staring at the door, knowing what's about to come.

His heart hammers against his chest and he opens his eyes as wide as he can, caught in a game of chicken against himself. And yet when the harsh knock rings throughout the room, and a harsh bark of a voice bites through the door, he still flinches. His eyes slam closed as if to shut out the fear. The walls breath around him, exhaling a fine smoke.

If fear had a smell, he was sure that it would smell blue. He was certain that it would feel sopping wet like a cloud turned sponge. He could imagine the fear as if he were diving into a river head first, his shoes growing heavy and his head swaddled. Fear would swallow his pupils until it would drown his irises, his lungs sopping.

Touya clenched the sheets surrounding his body attempting to drag his attention away.

His eyelashes flutter in a fight with himself. Would he rather see and be scared? Or hide in an attempt to keep out an ever growing fear? He couldn't decide, his eyes eventually deciding for him. They open to the room, breathing in the cold around them, the air growing flush against them.

He grapples with the blanket, trying to get it off of him as soon as possible. The swaddling heat swallowed his body in an attempt to drag him back to sleep. But his conscious addled mind felt burned against the heat, scrambling away from the fire in his bed.

The cold air binds to sweat, clasping his body in a wet grip. Oxygen pulls from his lungs in a tedious dance that he wishes would stop. His heart pummels his ribcage and he wishes that would stop as well.

Feet tumbling forward, Touya makes for the door.

His feet plaster the hall in invisible footprints, leading him down a path covered in thorns. The walls work as guides, his legs stilts beneath him. The ground gets further each day, harder each time he falls into its splintered arms.

The halls close in on him as he walks. They breath in, expanding against him, trapping him against their diaphragm. They lean over him in disappointment, dripping in tears that smell like paint. The smell of wood strikes his nose as his cheek plunges into the wall. His knuckles press into the wood, the air yanking him away. His feet patters through the doorway, fingers glancing off of the metal frame, fingertips devouring the cold.

The room opens into a sea of equipment, Touya feeling as if he were on the edge of a cliff, staggering on the end, about to fall.

Mats lunge for his body as he tumbles backwards, refusing to deal with the pain of squatting just to sit. He hoists his torso forward in a jumbled jolt. The press of squares eating his fingertips as he wraps his ankles and feet, feeling as though it were twirling around his throat before pulling tight.

The ground quakes with heavy footsteps, his ears swallowing the sound as if it were candy. His fingers clench against his ankles to keep himself from looking up. His spine bites him as shivers run up and down his back.

Warmth gulps the air around him, striping him of ice. Light flickers from the corner of his eyes, jumping just as much as his nerves. Thunder rolls down Touya's limbs, his heart crackling.

A hand reaches out for him and he forgets to breathe.

Large, square fingers fill his eyes, his head jerking forward when his shirt is pulled towards a large, hulking monster with fire for eyes. Heat seeps into Touya's eye sockets in his attempt to keep his eyes wide and unforgiving. He knows it will be worse for him if he closes his eyes.

His shirt digs into the back of his neck as his body hangs above the ground. His feet dangle towards Endeavour's knees, careful not to knock them.

The cold leaks from his pores, running from the heat in ways that he wished he could. His skin itches with it, and he has to withhold from pulling at his flesh as if it were one great scab. Blood catches in his throat, his mind drowning in carbon and fire.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" comes the voice of a hundred nightmares rolled into limbs that beat and pull.

Touya's flames flicker like a candle against his fingertips before he clenches them. His toes tremble in their confines, the only concession he's willing to make. His tongue snakes out and gets caught on the flakes of skin that line his lips.

"What do you mean?" his voice cracks like logs in a fire, pulling against his adams apple.

Teeth glare from above him, seemingly dull compared to Endeavour's knife of a tongue. Touya fights against looking up, content to stare holes into his father's collarbone. His eyes take a chisel to the well of flesh, picking at it with a hammer in an attempt to snap his vocal chords. And yet his voice spews from his lips. The air vibrates with unspoken screams.

"When I walk in that door, I am your enemy," he drawls.

If Touya's voice weren't leaking down his back in a cold trail of ice, he would find it in himself to argue that Endeavour was always his enemy.

"And when I walk through that door, I expect you to act like it." His voice is coated in brown sugar. Condescending, as if talking to a child instead of his project. His knuckles press into Touya's chest as he pulls him closer. The warmth from his beard licks against Touya's chin, his breath coating him in regurgitated words. "Instead," his voice grows as big as his ego, "of flinching. Just like your goddamn mother," he spits. "You're pathetic." Spittle lines Touya's burning cheeks.

Touya agrees. He's not an idiot. He knows what he looks like, he knows what he feels better than anyone. And he feels pathetic.

Endeavour casts him away, tossing his body like a bag of used rags. Harmless and of absolutely no use.

His hands stick out, catching on the hard ground. He gets a good look at his wrists. Thin. Blue veins trickling up his arms in rivers of ice water. He clenches his eyes shut, bolting down his fear into the sides of his wrists. He waits for the rivers to wash it away, leaving anger in its place.

Picking himself off of the ground, he turns towards his father. "Sorry," he grinds out. His teeth feel as if they'll swallow his face unless he grinds them into nubs. His fingers clench, pushing into the small tears in his hands.

A fire blossoms against Touya's cheek, his head snapping to the left. "Don't be sorry!" He roars. "Be better. Beat me! Don't be your fucking mother," he growls as he pushes against Touya. He stumbles back, catching himself on air. "Be better," he chants as he reaches for the monsoon in Touya's chest.

Be better.

If there were ever a sign nailed to the door in his heart, that's what it would say.

Be better.

Touya ducks Endeavor's hulking fist, pivoting to swing his foot into the back of his knees. Launching himself to immediately pummel his fists into the back of a villain as they glance off of him.

Rage trickles into his fingertips as his digs and ravages. Anger blossoms in his chest, roots swirling in his limbs, grappling with his fear and winning. He roars with a thousand unspoken screams, tears pressing against the back of his eyelids. His fear mourns the child inside of him as Endeavor laughs.

It shakes the walls of his consciousness and rumbles in his chest, casting against the sides and searing his nerves.

Be better, he said. So he would be. Better than Endeavor or All Might could ever be. He would run so fast that they could never catch up to him. His knees would never tremble, his legs would never shake, his lungs never quake. It left a sweet taste on his tongue, combating the copper that lay there.

Touya reached out with his fist aiming for Enji's face, but only able to reach his stomach. He places a shackle of a hand against Touya's wrist, pulling him off of his feet. Touya can feel him grin against his ear, teeth slick with saliva. His excitement fizzles into the air, running along the hair on Touya's arms, zapping him.

Endeavour chuckles with pleasure as he pushes against Touya's thin wrist and listens to the snap against his skin. With a cry of pain, Touya collapses to the ground. His body falls limp from Endeavour's grip and he watches him fall.

The pain shoots up his arm like knives underneath his skin when he throws out his hands to catch himself against the ground, his nose slamming into the ground when he pulls out his arms.

Endeavour's grin turns like spoiled milk. It falls off of his face as if his fire had melted it, evaporating it until there isn't a trace left. His head tips down, staring at Touya, his lip pulling up.

"You're disgusting."

His words fall like blows against Touya's collapsed body, pulling him in different directions until he feels stretched beyond belief.

Endeavour's brows furrow, darkening his eyes. His beard turns white hot as he slams his foot into Touya's stomach."RESPOND!" he bellows.

The weight of guilt holds back Touya's vomit as he gags against the floor. Holding his nose against the ground, he utters a response, "Yes, sir. I'm disgusting."

Touya can hear him grin, his lips pulling wet over his teeth, "And pathetic," he pushes.

Touya lets the silence stretch half a second in his way of rebellion. He keeps his eyes shut to keep from looking at the hole burning through his stomach. His wrist lay limp against his chest, held together by his opposite hand. The floor digs against his forehead and knees as he tries to keep himself held up as much as he's able until Enji leaves. Black flowers dance along his eyelids, leaving the stars to twinkle in between them. Air feels like a coarse rope going down his throat, only to be yanked back out.

His voice squeaks against the walls, disturbing the amount of calm he had been able to garner inside his chest. "Yes, sir," he whispers. "And pathetic."

"Have your mother tend to your injuries," he spits. "Classes will continue as normal."

Enji's boots clamber against the ground, the door shutting in an echo that reverbs throughout his mind.

He squirms against the ground, itching against the heat his muscles create. His body feel coated in warmth as if he had spent the day sunbathing. Fire prickles his arms. Burns, bruises, and broken bones creating a temperature wholly their own.

He rolls onto his back, pressing against the cold. He stares at the insides of his wrists, and lets his pain and fear wash away in a river of ice. He ignores the sharp edges of his hands, and the burns that splattered them red.

A pit fills his throat, a spring filling his eyes. Tears rush into the bottom of his eyes, siphoning the water from his mouth. His tongue collapses against the roof of his mouth, bone dry. He sniffs against the tension in his nose, pulled to a stop by the blood clotting there.

A monster rears up inside of him made of water and shame. It slams against his eyelids, pushing against them, leaking out of the corners. If Touya weren't so tired he might have been able to fight against it. But his limbs screamed at him, his wrist a shrieking banshee. His eyes felt as if they were being sucked into his head by a black hole. His ears ached from Enji's shouts. His heart tugged at him until it felt like taffy.

He was so tired of fighting monsters.

He let water stream from his eyes, unable to wipe them away from his face. He licked his lips, flakes of skin coated in salt. He refused to make a sound, ashamed enough as it was, but whines slammed against the inside of his chest in time to his heart.

His soul wept yellow. It leached happiness until all that was left was a cool blue flame surrounding him in a wall of fire.

His brains flushes against his face, heat melding them together.

He wanted to be cold.

He was so tired of heat, of burns, and of fire.

He wanted to be cold. Ice cold. Bone cold. He wanted his soul to shiver, and his spine to convulse.

He wants so many things, but wanting was off limits to him. It's a deep hole that grabs at his ankles and tears at his limbs until those sickly claws pull him under. It was dangerous to want, to hope, to wonder what if.

Sometimes he would let himself dream. But that was a secret, and one that he wouldn't tell anyone. If the words ever left his mouth he was sure that they would burn like tissue paper, reality a spark that never went away.

Sometimes he would dream of faraway places, one where nobody needed anything from him. He didn't need money, or even love, he just wanted to be _okay_. He wanted the pain to stop.

But he never dreamt for long. Hope was the harshest weapon of all, one that faded from the fire in his limbs.

His fingertips flicker like candles, burning so hot that his fingertips feel like ice.

His fire was different from Enji's.

He was different from Enji, and the liquid ice that poured out of his fingertips was a reminder that he clasped with all of his strength.

He splays his hand against his broken wrist, letting blue swallow his pressed together hands. A hiss leaves his mouth from the freezing feeling holding his wrist in a delicate hold.

He lets the cold wash over him. He tips his head back, swallowing back the bliss of being cold. He lets his river of ice roll through his veins and out his fingertips, gently kissing the inside of his wrist. He knew this wasn't right. He knew he was pathetic. Disgusting.

A sob rips from his chest, blood and snot leaking from his nose. His quirk cuts off and the heat rushes against his skin, pushing into his bones as if it belonged.

_What if…_ he wonders, but not for long.

"Psst. Kurogiri," comes a harsh whisper from above him. "He's crying."

"Yes, that does appear to be so," says a curt voice.

Touya keeps his eyes shut, making sure not to clench them tight. He can feel the pools of water dipping in the cracks of his skin. He can feel a blush dust the part of his cheeks that remain unscarred.

"Well, shit." Touya can hear a glass getting placed against a table. "Are you sure you got the right guy?"

Glass squeaks against a rag, "Touya Todoroki. Son of Endeavour. Known as the low-grade villain, Dabi."

Injustice rumbles in the back of his chest. Like hell Touya was a low-grade villain. He teeth pull tight in his mouth.

"It would be hard to get it so wrong. Look at him. He looks like a gnarled eggplant."

_What the fuck did he just call me?_

"But he can't be that great. Passes out, and now he's crying?" the man's tone shifts lower, rumbling around Touya's chest, "At least he's better than that other chick. She wouldn't shut the fuck up. Kept giggling, going on about blood."

"She was indeed abnormal." The voice remains polite, and impartial. It jolts Touya's ear everytime he says something. His voice is so off for the situation he finds himself in.

"Just say it, Kurogiri. She's fucking creepy."

"Yes, well, we will not have to work with them for long. I am sure you are capable of dealing with them for the time being."

Footsteps creak against the cold floorboards that Touya finds himself plastered against. Touya clenches his abdomen, expecting to be kicked in his side like so many times before. Instead, a gentle prod comes from a sneakered foot.

Touya keeps his body still, popping open one eye. His eye connects with a pair of feral red eyes hidden beneath a dry and flaking hand.

"Can I help you?" Touya asks.

A grin splits his face, cracking the skin surrounding his mouth. Dots of red bead his face. "Yes, actually."

Dabi smiles a closed lip smile, his voice coated in sugar like Enji's from so long ago. "Great," he coos, "My business hours begin tomorrow at 10." He closes his eyes, moving to make himself more comfortable against the pleasantly cold floor.

Anger pulls at Shigaraki's lips, his eyes sliding into slits. A red sneaker presses into his chest, pushing deep into the center of his rib cage. He aims a glance at a man made of mist, "A fucking psychopath, and now some rude guy. Just where the hell did you find this punk?"

"From a very reputable source," he claims.

"Reputable, my ass," the man murmurs underneath his breath, just enough for himself and Touya to hear. He would have snorted if he weren't taking a huge shit on him and his name.

"Now that we have my references out of the way, can you tell me what the fuck I'm doing here," Touya interjects.

"Yes, I believe that would be effective."

The man removes his sneaker from Touya's chest, a sigh coming from the back of his throat. His downtrodden lips pull up. "My name is Shigaraki Tomura. And I'm the one who's going to kill All Might."

"You may call my Kurogiri," says the suit behind the bar. "It is nice to meet you, although I must apologize for our forward approach."

Touya clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth, "A pleasure."

"We know,"Shigaraki says from above him as he pulls his lanky limbs towards his body, pushing away from the floorboards.

Touya presses the air from his lungs out through his nose, taking quiet satisfaction in the way that he towers over Shigaraki.

"What do you want?"

"Join us," Shigaraki says, eyes meeting Touya's, "In killing All Might."

Silence rings throughout the bar.

Touya looks at Shigaraki, looking for the joke. Steely red eyes stare through him, refusing to concede. Touya's chest takes a step forward, trying to get closer even when his legs stay stubborn.

He thinks of red eyes, and the fire that drowns them. He looks at Shigaraki, but he doesn't see fire. He sees autumn leaves as dry as the skin that lines Shigaraki's throat and Touya's neck. Crisp leaves underneath his feet, breathing cold air into his lungs. He thinks of red eyes. But more importantly he thinks of the river in his veins. His chest takes a step forward, plunging into unseemly high waters.

"One condition," Touya croaks.

"Yes, yes, money" Shigaraki supplies.

"We have plenty," continues Kurogiri.

Shigaraki turns towards the figure of black mist, indignant, "Don't fucking tell him that, dickwad. He'll just ask for more!" he storms.

Touya clears his throat, effectively cutting off Shigaraki's triad. His grin pulls at the staples in his cheek, "I want Endeavour dead." His eyes burn with the tide in his chest, excitement tugging at his limbs.

His eyes meet with Shigaraki's from across the room, matching grins split on both of their faces. His dry voice scratches Touya's ears when he says, "Deal," with pure abandon licking the back of his eyes. "It will be a good warm up for when we kill the Symbol of Peace." He spreads his arms wide, encasing the bar, "Welcome to the League of Villains."


End file.
